


Peace

by Birdfluff



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Multi, a sort of au if Medic didn't join classic, long distant relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-05-21 10:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6047794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdfluff/pseuds/Birdfluff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow finding peace after getting fired from years of war is an odd thing to get used to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Airport

**Author's Note:**

> A very late Valentines Day fic that is still in the works but dang it I'm going to finish it!

“This is my ma's home phone number. Try not to call around midnight,” Scout, as cleverly as he could, hid his heartaches by seeming nonchalant, keeping his sentences concise to make sure his voice won't crack.

“This... is going to be weird for all of us isn't it? It came around all the sudden.” Sniper whispered, dejected. Two days ago, everything was normal as it could be and the next day the Voice vanished without a trace. Gray Mann had gained control and fired each of the mercenaries, who had no choice but to return to their homes. The three men stood there in silence while strangers around the bustled and announcements seemed to scream from the intercom every five minutes. The airport was brimming with life and happily ignoring the ex-mercs' solemn faces.

“You gonna be okay living... you know...?” The batter was unsure how touchy the subject was to him by now. Only weeks ago did he receive a call of his parents' death. They were old, bounded to die soon, his lovers knew this. Although, it was strange, even when given some time off to attend the funeral, Sniper declined and continued working. He avoided any conversation that turned about his parents. After many futile attempts of persuasion, he still held strong. No one caught him crying. He never broke down. Silently, collectively, everyone decided to not bring up the topic.

Surprisingly, the rifleman responded with a small smile, “I'll be fine, don't worry 'bout old me. Least, I won't get yelled at the second I step onto their property... Well, mine, now, I guess.”

Scout's legs swung back and forth, sporadically knocking on the one leg of the table, “You... just take care of yourself, alright?”

“I will. You should too. Doc, you'll do the same, won't you?”

Medic had been quiet for the whole trip, apart from the occasional prodding questions which he would give a curt answer to. Comfort bounced off him like a ball against the wall. The force was too weak to break his boundaries. The two could only assume what could be going on in his mind. Even if his face held like stone, he was afraid. He didn't have a plan. He didn't exactly have a home back in Germany. His life's work had gone to waste and has left him in a state of depression.

His eyes finally lifted upwards to glance between the two men, “Of course.”

“Doc, like I said before, you're always welcome to stay with me.”

“And I am sure I responded with not wishing to be a freeloader.”

“But you wouldn't be—”

“Mein Schatz, please, I do not want to argue right now.”

“Doc...”

Scout chimed in, irritated, “Hey, I don't want our last minutes here to be us making a scene and looking like idiots—”

The announcer called in numbers and a flight terminal, this appeared to be correct for the field medic stood up with his carry on luggage. His mouth twitched as he eyed his partners. Before he turned to leave without another word, the Bostonian sprang up from his chair, which fell with a loud clank, and preceded to wrap his arms around the doctor in a firm embrace.

The abrupt gesture caused Medic to release his grasp from his bag. Finally, his stoic expression broke as tears broke free. He returned the gesture and held the youngest lover tight as he buried his head into his neck, knocking his glasses askew. 

The intercom gave a last warning which broke their unsatisfying goodbye. Swiftly, after Medic stooped down to pick up his luggage, Sniper pecked his cheek and gave his hand a squeeze, “Have a safe flight, doc.”

Refusing to speak, the doctor nodded and sprinted to the docking station in time. For a moment, he paused outside of the gate to gaze back at them. He lingered longer than he should have, perhaps fighting the temptation to run back. Neither of them had a clue, but, eventually, he sauntered through the gate and out of sight.

“I fucking hate this.” Scout groaned, his voice cracking. He bit his thumb as he desperately tried to dry his eyes by blinking rapidly.

The Aussie pulled him into a one armed hug and kissed his head. “We'll be together again sooner than you think, love.”

“We'll keep in touch, right?”

“No doubt.” The rifleman leaned towards his lips. 

Reflexively, the runner jerked his head away. “Don't--! If you wanna leave in one piece, don't.”

“Don't tempt me, mate.”

Scout managed to break himself away from his touch to sit back down, after setting his chair back upright. He rested his chin on his palm, “I could've been gone by now if the damn flight wasn't delayed. It would've hurt less.”

“Darl, even if you did leave first, you'd still be a crying wreck on the plane itself.”

“I don't cry, man!” he emphasized his statement by a single pound of his fist on the table top. After a minute of silence between them, he took off his hat, stroking over the seams, “This is bullshit.”

Every bone in his body eased at the touch of his lover's skilled hand fondling his hair, “it'll work out. Gotta be patient for once.”

“Shut up.” Scout groaned, gripping tight to any ounce of anger he had left.

The rifleman chuckled at his partner's struggle to not melt entirely at his palm.

“I'm gonna miss this... I'm gonna miss you.”

“I'll call as soon as I get home, promise.”

“You better.”

The intercom announced another gate number five minutes later. Sniper proceeded to grab his carry on bag.

“... Well, this is--”

Abruptly, the Bostonian stood up, “Cut the crap, don't you get all sappy with me!”

“...Alright, I'll talk to you later then.”

“Uh-!! Wait, don't go yet.. Um. Could I, at least, get a goodbye kiss?” the runner gestured with his finger to his cheek.

Knowing exactly what his partner was thinking, he gladly obliged. He leaned in to meet his lips instead of his cheek. The Aussie pulled him closer as the batter grabbed onto him tightly before a few moments passed to break off the kiss. Scout whined in protest when Sniper escaped from his touch.

He couldn't watch him leave. For the longest time until his flight was called, he sat with his head in his hands. His mind unable to pull away from what he should have done, what he should have said. He should have offered a place to stay too. Then again, what would his mother say about that? She never took it well to having a stranger in the house, nonetheless a stranger that has killed people or fiddled around with her son's organs. On that thought, he placed a hand to his chest, where the same Ubercharge heart pounded. He could see the doctor over him again... talking, shooing Archimedes away yet still ending up inside of his chest. He remembered the rest of the day was filled with chest pains.

Those pains were familiar as of now, except his heart hurt more than his entire torso. It was possible to be heartburn from his lunch earlier, yes, definitely. That was why his eyes were tearing up too, but he wasn't going to cry during the plane ride home, of course not. When he's alone in his room, that is a better sounding place to cry and wait until he heard from Sniper or Medic.

Only an hour left until the plane landed.

Are you crying, he would ask. Scout would come up with an awful excuse, like watching a chick flick or chopping onions. He knew he would laugh at him, and probably say something really sweet to make him feel worse about lying. They would exchange how their flights went, how did it feel to be back.. Sniper lived on a farm, or pretty close to one, right? The batter knocked his brain around as he tried to recall. It had to be somewhere with sheep.  
Medic didn't have a place to call home. He'll no doubt live in a hotel until he found a job or run around the country to avoid getting arrested. It must feel awful to live in his shoes, to for once not have a plan.

The runner's world shook for a few seconds. He opened his eyes to see that the airplane had successfully landed on earth, pleasing him greatly. Eventually, the plane stopped moving and connected with the terminal. Taking his bag out from under the chair and hopping out of seat, Scout tried to make a hurried beeline to the exit while avoiding the masses of people entering the walkway with agility. His mother should be outside in the Mercedes Benz right? After managing to leave the gate in one piece, the batter jogged towards and out the doors to the parking lot.

Boston. It smelled exactly as he remembered. Gasoline. He stood there to take it in.

Until honking knocked him hard out of his trance, he whirled about until he faced a beautiful dark green Mercedes with his mother at the wheel. Immediately after getting his attention, she got out of the automobile and sprinted in high heels to his side and embraced her son. He returned the gesture, meanwhile his eyes stayed firmly planted on the car. 

“It's so good to have you back! Was the plane ride here scary?” Her thick Boston accent reverberated in his ears.

“Jesus, ma, I'm alive, ain't I? 'Sides I wasn't scared, I slept the whole way.”

“Don't lie to me, boy. You don't nap.”

“Sure I do! Do you know how early I had to wake up to freaking wait for my plane?”

“Yeah, yeah, you can tell me 'bout on the way home,” she pulled away and strolled back to the vehicle.

“This _is_ gonna be brought down to me, right?” His question was entirely on impulse.

“Sure, baby.”

He blinked, pouting at the woman smirking at him, “You're teasin' me aren't you?”

“Honey, you should know that you have to rip the car keys out of my dead hands.”

He huffed as he watched her get inside the car. He then patted the hood, whispering, “Don't listen to her. I've got a plan to get you quicker than that.”

She leaned towards the passenger side, “Are you talking to my car?” 

“Don't act so surprised. You talk to it too, you hypocrite.”

She rolled her eyes, “Just get in the damn car.”

~~~

“I'm glad you're back though, for long term this time.”

“I'm glad to be back! I've missed this place.... and you.”

“Nice save." she took a hand off the wheel to pat his leg, "Missed you too, sweetie.”

“You didn't turn my room into anything, right?”

“Other than clean it up? No.”

“Maaaaa.”

“You are a grown ass man, Oliver. If you're gonna live with me again, you need to clean your own damn room and do chores and errands and—”

“Okay, okay, I got responsibilities, I know. Thank you. Jesus Christ.”

“They made you do chores at your little base, right?”

“Yeah? Like laundry and dishes, that stuff. Why?”

“Know how to get blood off of clothes?”

“I mean, yea? _Why?_ ”

“Good, you can do the laundry when you get home then.”

It took him a moment for his brain to catch up, “MA! THAT'S FUCKING DISGUSTING!”

“Oh, don't be such a wuss. It's still blood! You know, if you've been dating that Pauling girl, you should be used to it.” His silence set her on edge, “you _have_ been dating her, right? That wasn't a lie, right?”

“No! No! It's not, honestly, we, uh,” he cleared his throat to give him more time to think of a good lie, “sort of, fell out to even get that far into the relationship. We couldn't click. I just didn't tell you, because I didn't know what you'd, uh, say.”

“Oh.”

“... Oh?”

“I have nothing to say. I mean, that's disappointing that it couldn't work out. No other girls though? None of your teammates? You said they were all men, right?”

“Y-yeah...” _I'm totally not dating two men, nope, nope, absolutely not dating men. Please for the love of anything that could be holy, do not ASK_

“Shame.”

 _Thank God._ "Yeah, it was a real shame."

~~~

The apartment complex looked as familiar as he had left it. He knew the floor and door numbers like the back of his hand. Inside the apartment itself, however, had some changes. He smelled like something familiar too that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

“Got someone to remodel?”

“Sort of, the wallpaper was ripping, especially in the kitchen, so I scrapped them all of and just painted, like the color?” It was red to match his team color. Okay, that's actually really sweet. Her son's smile was enough for her to continue, “The boards kept making that awful creaking sound I hate so you know I had to do something about that. Oh, I replaced the fans too. I've made sure those don't click. I know you hate that as much as I do.”

“Yea, yea it looks nice. You did good.” 

“Naw, thanks.” Beeping from the kitchen caught their attention. 

“What're you making in there?” His mother stopped him with her arms spread out to guard the doorway before he could step inside.

“A surprise.”

He blinked, “A surprise for me?”

“Course! You're home, Oliver. We've gotta celebrate it, you know? Stay out here until it's done.” With that, she disappeared into the neighboring room.

"Well, duh, obviously."  
Once she had left, his eyes traveled to the phone hanging by the door. Surely, it's only been at least three hours into their flights. Neither of them have stepped onto their country yet. He admitted to himself that he was afraid. For them, for his sake, for when he's mom will find out, it was too abnormal for them to not be within the same building and he wanted them to be okay, to get nice jobs, to be settled and happy.

He knew one of them would call soon so he did his best to wait.

Days passed.

Weeks passed.

Months passed.

There was not a single call for him.

The peace and quiet was putting him on edge.


	2. Phonecalls

Who the hell calls in the middle of the night? If Scout wasn't suffering from insomnia right now, there would be rather unpleasant words being shared between him and the caller. Sluggishly, he rolled himself out of the comfort and warmth of his old bed and into the chilling hallway. Yawning, he picked up the receiver, “The fuck ya want?”

“Scout?” A German accent greeted him, properly waking him up. 

The phone fell out his grasp and nearly hit the floor if it weren't for his reflexes. He held the phone close to his face, “Doc?!”

“I've woken you up, haven't I? I'm so sorry--”

“I don't give a crap, man. Oh my god, is it really you?” his elated grin grew broader by the second. He felt his body shivering for a different excuse.

There was a brief pause, his tone had become lighter, “Of course, meine leibling. I've missed you.”

“God, me too. What took you so long?”

“Ach, forgive me. I have been searching for a job and a place to stay mostly. It's not exactly going well.”

His smile waned, “Sorry about that.”

“I'll figure something out.” Scout heard something click on the other side. Now that he listened wind was blowing intently against the receiver. He's using a payphone. “I hope things on your end, are better?”

He snapped out of his thoughts, “Oh, yea, yea um, definitely. Ma's ecstatic to have me back. Nearly threw a party, eheh. Kind of, um, tried to get me with some of her friend's daughters. Already home and she's tryin' to settle me down.”

A hum was his reply. After all this time, he recalled that hum was never a pleasant sign. No doubt disappointed that he hadn't told his own mother about the biggest part of his life even if they hadn't spoken in months. Scout didn't need vague guilt tripping to feel awful; ever since the relationship began, he had been fraught with anxiety of how his mother would handle the news. It should not keep him up at night. Dating two men isn't the most acceptable concept, nowadays. The fact that he was dating men, didn't help either. He had been dropping hints that his mother was apparently dense enough to ignore or say 'that's nice' to. It was only the matter of time he would get fed up and accidentally blurt it out, most likely in front of her friends. He shook himself, thinking too long on the loathsome subject.

“Has Snip-- uh, I mean, have you gotten a chance to call, Snipes?”

“Once, but the line went busy. No doubt he's trying to pay for all the bills.”

“That would explain some things.”

“Is he not answering your calls?”

“Nope. A few times, I've gotten his answering machine which, I guess, he hasn't changed, because I think it was his ma that answered.”

His silence was less than reassuring. 

“You think he's okay?”

“For now, I trust that he is but you know how hopeless he can be.”

“Heh, yea, I--”

“Oliver, sweetie, who is that?” Scout nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of his mother's voice eerily close to his ear. Without hesitation, he covered the receiver part with his hand.

“S-shit, ma, sorry, I... it's my, uh,” He scanned his brain for any sort of similar synonyms. Saying he had a boyfriend would be a death sentence-- Actually. Fuck it. It's late. He'll get a lecture in the morning. “My boyfriend. He's living in Germany right now. We used to be teammates.”

The skin on his back crawled as he watched his mother's face change drastically. “Boyfriend..?”

“Yea, is that a problem? I didn't get to talk to him for a while, so I kind of want to know how he's doing.”

“Is that why you won't go out with Natasha?”

“Ma, please--”

“Sweetie, why did you not tell me?”

“Ma. Ma. I love you but can this wait til the morning?”

A frustrated puff escaped her as she threw her hands up dramatically and stalked down the hall and into her bedroom, “Fine! Fine, have it your way! I have to cancel a blind date now because of you. You know, I thought I'd give you a nice surprise but noooo! You just have to have a boyfriend, don't you!”

His jaw had dropped, “You gotta be fucking kidding me...”

“Oliver?” That German accent rang through his ears once more.

A chill ran throughout his body, as if he had drank an entire can of Bonk!. He blinked furiously and swallowed, “Y-yeah?”

“Is everything alright? Is she angry with you?”

“F-frigging dandy, man. Uh, passive aggressive mostly since she's been working her ass off to, you know, um,” he swallowed again, “Can... can you say my name again?”

“... I love you, Oliver.”

A burst of giggles sprung from within him, as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, “you know, I hate my name but goddamn you just... you make it sound so fucking good.”

Medic chuckled loudly, “oh, mein Schatz, you are still adorable.”

The batter vainly restrained a yawn, “C'mon, don't. I miss seeing you, touching you... don't make it worse.”

“You are not alone on that. You should be getting to bed though,” he could practically hear a smile in his tone.

“B-but--!”

“I am not keeping you up, go to bed, Oliver.”

Another shiver coursed throughout his body as he whined, “Hey, if you're gonna use my name, can I at least use yours?”

“... Emmet.”

“Emmet? Emmet... I like that.”

He grinned at the sound of his lover's flustered short giggling, “Guten Nacht, Oliver.”

“Night, Emmet.” Right as he hung the phone back in place, he slapped his forehead. Fuck, why didn't he ask when he'd call again?

~~~

In the duration of the week, whenever the phone would sound, Scout was the first to answer only to give it to his mother, Angie. Nothing from either of them. He wasn't exactly clingy but his dying curiosity of how they were doing kept him up late at times. He would never tell this to his mother. It was enough that she spared him from a lecture and occasionally slap him with passive aggressive attitude which he would then spit back. It wasn't taken as seriously as any outsider would think.

On Sunday afternoon, the phone rang loudly. Unfortunately, Scout was out doing errands forced upon him to get out of the house, so Angie walked out of her bedroom and answered.

“Hello?”

The voice responded tepidly, “'Ello, is this Scout's mum?” 

“It is, may I ask who's calling?” The accent wasn't German; it sounded more British. No, it was rougher than that, maybe Australian? Either way, he had to be from the company if he addressed her son as such.

“Oh, just... An old teammate of his. He's been expecting a call from me for a long time now. Is he home?” This caught her attention. 

“He's out doing errands right now. Can I take a message or phone number?”

“Um... no, that's fine. He's already got mine. Just tell him that I called.”

“Only if you give me your name or whatever class you were.”

“Oh, right. Sniper.”

“I'll let him know then.”

“Thank you. Bye.” The dial tone echoed into her ears before she could give a proper goodbye. A shy one, he is. Expecting a call from him... This left a bad taste in her mouth.

~~~

“I'm back, ma.” Scout shut the door behind him with his foot. Grunting, he arranged the many bags in a way to not kill his back.

“Does the big strong man want help?” His mother mused, eyeing him from the kitchen.

“I got it!” He remarked as he trudged into the room.

“You need to hit the gym, you're getting flabby.” Impulsively, she poked his stomach to which he recoiled.

“Fuck off!” He set the groceries down on the counter as he glared at her, “You know I'm sensitive there. Did you want these on the floor?”

Rolling her eyes, she set to unpacking the bags and urging her son to do the same, “Oh, your boyfriend called, by the way.”

“Shit, did he? Did you tell him to call back?”

“No.”

“What?”

“It was your other boyfriend, Sniper, I think he said.”

Scout's eyes grew to the size of plates. He stood frozen in place with a can in his hand, which eventually slipped from his grasp and collided with his shoe. He flinched and quickly stooped down to pick it back up. 

He studied his mother's face for any sign of malice or disappointment, but he only found amusement, “Are... Was that teas...? Are you actually okay with this?”

“Are you happy?”

“... Y-yeah?”

“Then I'm okay with it.”

“... How?”

“I've had a boyfriend like that. He had many dates other than me but when his dates found out about me, they broke his heart. His secrecy was his downfall. You're not doing that, are you?”

“No, no! We... we're all dating each other.”

“Good, that's good.” The unexpected silence did not last long, “What are you waiting for, sweetie? Go call him.”

In a flash, the batter was out of the kitchen and on the phone, dialing the number he had planted into his head.

“Pick up pickuppickuppickup...!” The seconds of nothing but static was eating him up. He chewed at his lip while fiddling the phone cord. His heart stopped when the other side clicked.

“Scoutie?”

“Snipes! Babe!”

“I am so sorry to make you wait so long. Ever since I got here, it's either a forest fire or storms knocking the power out. It's a hell of a season right now that finally slowing up.”

“How the hell are you still alive over there?”

“Perseverance. I have two darls waiting for me.”

“Oh yeah? Consider them lucky then to have someone like you,” his back slacked against the wall as his index finger curled itself around the long cord.

“That's more sweet than cheesy, you alright?”

“Definitely, I'm talking to a guy with the most sexiest voice, you know, besides me.”

A snort echoed from the other end. 

The runner pouted, “You laughin' at me?”

“Nah, nah, was just thinking.”

“Bout what?”

“Just... what would happen if you said that in front of me.”

A cheeky grin slid across his face, “Explain that to me in full detail, please.”

Scout had dearly missed his lover's adorable laughter that at times could end in snorts, “I rather not give you a hearty phone bill, darl.”

“Mmm, so you thought it out that much huh?”

“Might have. Uh, have you gotten anything from doc?”

“Emmet! Yeah, he called me pretty late at night like days ago. He... doesn't really have anything. I'm assuming he's staying at a hotel. You'd think with medical experience, he'd get some type of job. He hasn't called me recently.”

“I think it's best that he doesn't or those old habits'll resurface.”

“Like stealing a skeleton from a patient?”

“Something like that... Emmet?”

“Oh, uh, his name, told me his name that night, since, you know, not in the company anymore. Name's Oliver, by the way, you can call me that if you wanna. It's kind of a stupid name.”

“Oliver,” the name rolled off his tongue beautifully. “Doesn't sound like a stupid name.”

“When you fucking say it, of course not.” Why and how did his lovers make his name sound amazing? “C'mon, give me yours.”

“M..Mundee.”

“Mundee? Isn't... isn't your.. last name Mundee?”

“... Spelled different, mate.”

That didn't help already that was he laughing so hard that he had earned banging from the neighbors upstairs.

“Goddammit, just call me Mick, you little bastard!”

“Fuck no, holy shit!” His giggling finally died down, “oh god, oh my god, I love it.”

“Because it's funny?”

“It was funny, yeah, but it's cute. You're cute.”

Sniper huffed loudly, “and you're impossible.”

“Impossibly handsome, you mean?”

“Sure, mate. Whatever you say.”


	3. Break

Saying that he was sad was an understatement. No, he felt awfully depressed. Not even his little pigeon that nuzzled against the crook of his neck could cheer him up. He thought this through before coming back yet everything fell out of place the moment he stepped off the plane. Was there even options anymore?  
He needed fresh air. All of his thoughts have been forcing him to be tired every waking moment. He stood from his bed, startling his bird. 

“Forgive me, Archimedes,” He placed the pigeon down on the pillow, “I'll be right back.”

Without further hesitation, he left the hotel bedroom, key in hand. The hallway lights were turned off two hours ago since the registers closed for the night. Slowly, he made his way to the elevators by brushing his fingers on the walls. His mind was running idea after idea until it pounded at him harshly. He was a specialized doctor, a pursuer of science, he had the chance to study and experiment with alien guts for heaven sake! He knew he deserved better than this, to be highly respected. He wasn't here. He was either labeled a psycho or a drunk and sent back to his room. He was amazed so far that he hadn't been arrested yet. That was a new record.

Once down to the last floor, the elevator door opened and sharp lights enveloped around him. He shut his eyes briefly, flinching in surprise. When his eyes fully adjusted, he exited the small room and made a beeline for the dark outdoors. He needed to get out of here. He needed a break. He needed something, he just couldn't put his finger on what.

His feet halted when he noticed a payphone in front of him. He glanced around as if he temporarily forgotten where he was. The streetlights illuminated parts of the empty roads. Everything held still. For once, calming silence swept over Dresden like a blanket. It was intimidating. Suddenly, a snap caught his attention. He jerked about, his eyes scanning around for the source or worse a spy. His arm was raised, hand clenched as if holding a bone saw—he then gave a mirthless chuckle as his body relaxed at the sight of the suspect. An albino cat stared at him with unblinking emerald eyes. He watched as it scampered on it's way. He was being foolish. There wasn't a battlefield around him. There wasn't a medigun in his hands. No one was screaming for him.

Sharply, he inhaled and shook his head to erase any imaginations or memories yearning to resurface. It was getting ridiculous now. Being outside was not doing him any favors. He then turned to the payphone. He needed to hear a familiar voice. What time was it? Did it matter? Will they pick up?

For a while he was trapped inside his mind before finally registering that he had already had the phone up to his ear with his wallet in the other hand. His finger finished dialing the last three numbers.

_I'm... a mess, aren't I?_

“Allo?” a groggy, low Australian accent invaded his thoughts.

“Mundee,” his eyes were already beginning to moist. He noticed now how parched his throat was. For some reason, he couldn't get his next set of words out.

“Emmet, you alright? What's wrong, darl?”

“I don't know what to do. I have been running around this country like a chicken with it's head cut off. I'm out of options. I'm out of ideas. I don't...” His voice died.

“Doc, listen to me, you're not out of options, mate. Why did you think you could do this alone? Is that why you haven't called?”

He searched his memory. How long _has_ it been since he had called either of his lovers? His fingers massaged the bridge of his nose, “I'm... I'm sorry. I've been doing it my whole life. You would think I'd be apt to this change but... I-- I'm an moron. I've become the village idiot now.”

“Oi, I'm not letting you say that about yourself. What happened to my offer?”

The German's brows furrowed, “What offer?”

“That you're welcome here. You won't be a freeloader. Hell, you can help me clean and that such.”

“Oh yes, a pristine doctor reduced to a housemaid sounds like an amazing career choice for me,” sarcasm heavily tainted his voice.

“I'm serious here, doc. You're part of this relationship aren't ya?”

His body stood still with his eyes glued to the payphone.

“If you are, then you won't be a freeloader.”

The Aussie called his name a few times, after his prolonged silence refused to let up. Shakily, Medic put the receiver back in place.  
Go to him. Get on a plane and go to him. Those were his only thoughts he could concentrated on. Go to him. You could touch him. He could ease every burden.

What other options do you have left?

He took control of his body again, edging towards the hotel, until he finally broke into a run. He took the stairs this time.

~~~

Sniper's house was not the most beautiful place he had seen. It would do... _For now_ , his mind consciously reminded him. His heart pounded hard at his chest. His muscles ached from the long plane ride, resulting to a long drive to the middle of nowhere, Alice Springs, Australia. The lights inside indicated life, a shadow moved past them occasionally. 

He desired to move but nothing reacted. He stood there uselessly in the dark. It took until Archimedes threw a tantrum after realizing that he woke up to be in a cage. In a hopeless attempt, he knelt down and gently urged his bird to hush with broken German. It was hard to think enough without having this on top of it. He could barely speak. Without warning, the porch lights turned on and the door before him swung open. Medic flinched and squinted up at the figure.

Sniper wore an enormous toothy smile as well as an undershirt and boxers. He knelt down to be at his eye level, “Good to have you here, doc.”

This man in front of him. Had to smile at him. Like an idiot. Just had to speak. Had to say one dumb sentence. It was enough for his eyes to moisten again. He yearned for his hands to caress his skin. He wanted to feel his lips again after so long yet he hesitated with his eyes peered through him.

Slowly the grin waned, as the marksman stared at his lover. He reached out and held onto his hand to which he discovered to be shaking. This once resound doctor turned into a broke and a heartbreaking to look at nobody. Sniper leaned forward and pecked his cheek, “Let's get you inside. Let me get your bags.”

Without much struggle, Sniper carried all of his partner's luggage inside and into his room in one trip. He set the baggage down beside his bed with a grunt.

“Decided to bring bricks with you?” He strolled back to the main room to see Medic had his bird on his hand. Archimedes pecked without mercy at his fingers to punish his owner for putting him in a cage. There wasn't much cooperation from his pigeon to calm down; so he let him sit on top of the cage, where Archimedes began cooing loudly and puffing his chest out. The field medic didn't give an inkling that he had heard Sniper speak. His feet nearly left the ground when he noticed his companion in the room again.

“Easy there, love, don't want you to peck at me too.” Okay, he might have been on the phone with Scout for an hour before the doctor arrived. It was long enough for his attributes to rub off on him. Either way, his attempts to light up the mood were futile. Immediately after the words escaped his mouth, he felt awkward when the reaction was a blank stare. “You alright, doc?”

His shoulders shrugging seemed to be enough as an answer for him to muster. Maybe, he was just tired?

“Hey, you've been on that plane for more than thirteen hours, right? Go freshen up. Bathroom's the last door on the left.” the Aussie gestured down the hallway. “Towels are in the pantry under the sink.”

Continuing on in silence, Medic nodded and disappeared into the hall, as the floorboards wheezed under him. There was a creak closely followed by a clacking noise. He could hear the water pipes come to life from the den. Mundee exhaled as if he had been holding in his breath. It was highly unusual for the doctor to be so quiet and refuse to give an emotional response. This wasn't how he acted whenever he felt exhausted. Sniper didn't feel like he was getting the whole story. He'd have to ask when he's ready, maybe in the morning.

The Aussie settled down at his worn out couch, just enough space away from the table side so that Archimedes won't snap at him. Speaking of, the bird had calmed down since the doctor had left the room. He watched as the pigeon climbed down from his perch and onto the couch's arm.

“Oi, don't shit on me things, or I might turn you into tomorrow's lunch.”

The bird's body feathers puffed out and shook, a few loose feathers falling out. Archimedes then preened his back, rightfully ignoring his companion.

The house hushed, sans the running water that his ears honed onto. It was only a few more minutes, until he heard the water shut off and the door eventually opened. The marksman listened intently to the creaking floor that indicated his lover entering another room, no doubt finding some clothes. The house became noiseless once more. Soon, the lack of sound had become concerning after a long while. Sniper stood up and strolled into the hall to check up on his partner. He found him in the last door on the right, Mundee's old room. The nearly fully clothed German was buttoning up his shirt. The glistening bland fabric shimmered against the lamp's light, revealing his strong muscles on his forearms. His hair damp stuck to his forehead. 

Sniper swallowed down a gasp and cleared his throat, announcing himself, “That looks good on you.”

Medic blinked and glanced down at his sleepwear before muttering something inaudible. He wasn't comfortable, that he could see. The rifleman moved towards him until there was only a foot of space between them. The doctor merely gazed at him.

“Emmet.” His lover winced. Sniper took his hand once more, “You're safe here. I'll take care of you.”

This sparked something within his mind. His muscles relaxed. Those beautiful blue eyes finally held feeling again... and tears. Were those tears? Before Mundee could speak, he was pulled into a firm embrace and had his lips claimed. He hastily returned the gesture until he caught something wet on his chin. He opened his eyes to his lover in tears.

“Darl? Darlin', what's wrong??” Quickly, the Aussie cupped his face and wiped his tears, with anxiety driving his tone.

“Ich wollen schlafen... bitte.” Sniper had to strain to hear his words. He knew enough German from living in the same vicinity as him to translate in his mind. He wanted to sleep. Hopefully, he'll get a real answer in the morning.

“Alright, mate, alright,” he kissed his face a couple more times for good measure, “Let's get some shut eye, shhhshh. Hey, I'm here. I'm right here. Don't worry.”

~~~

In duration of the night, Sniper fell in and out of consciousness. It had been too long since he had had physical contact in bed, that any sudden movements jolted him out of his sleep. He would look to see the doctor in the same position, cuddled into his person and their legs intertwined. His breath tickling his neck. It was a wonderful sight each time. He was happy each time to see that he wasn't crying.

This time, an aroma woke him from his slumber to find himself alone in bed. He licked his chapped lips and blinked his sleepy eyes before swinging his legs off the side of the bed. Stumbling out of the room, he squinted into the den to see no sign of the field medic. The sound of popping drew him towards the doorframe of the small kitchen, where Emmet monitored the old gas stove. For a minute, Sniper leaned against the frame and observed him. His mind traveled to another realm, where they had a nicer abode with just the three of them, maybe a golden retriever or a cat or some type of animal that won't eat Archimedes... maybe a ring. Fortunately for him, Medic had not turned around during this time. The Aussie's face had become completely red at his own imagination.  
After cooling down, Sniper advanced towards his lover, to which the floorboards alerted the doctor that he had company, and wrapped his arms around his waist, “Mornin', love.”

“Guten Morgen.” Inwardly, the rifleman was relieved to hear him speak.

He slipped his hands under the trim of his pants, stroking at his hips. He didn't need to wait long for a reaction.

“... If you'd like to keep your hands intact, remove them from my trousers.” Emmet commented with amusement dancing behind his stern tone.

That was the Medic he knew. He proceeded to reward him with an abundance of kisses against his jawbone as he hugged his middle. As he stopped to admire his handiwork, he noted a smile on his lover's lips.

Mundee was at ease to know that his medic seemed to be himself, “You scared me last night. I didn't think I'd get to hear your derisive remarks again.”

“I was distraught.”

“Could tell. How you feeling?”

“A little less than worse.”

“Least you're making progress, yeah?”

Emmet hummed.

“So when're you gonna tell me what's actually wrong?”

“... When I'm ready.” 

Another touch of his lips met his shoulder, “Take your time, love.”

One of his wonderfully soft hands moved from the counter and stroked the side of Mundee's face, “You are too good to me, Mundee. Thank you.”

~~~

Ringing sounded as they ate. The two looked up at one another with shared confusion. That couldn't be Scout. It must have been midnight over there. Slowly, Mundee departed from the table to the connecting den and picked the phone up from the small table by the sofa. “Hello?”

“Heeeeyyyy baabe.” It was, indeed, the Bostonian.

The rifleman huffed, unable to hide his disappointment, “Why bloody hell are you doing up so late, ya bastard?”

“It ain't that late. It's like... one.... ish. 'Snot that late.”

“You should be in bed...” He paused as he noticed his lover's words slurring together. “You sound odd... have you been drinking?”

“Fuck no, as if there's any good bars around here,” For a moment, the Aussie thought he needed to prod him further because of his uncharacteristic silence, “Okay, maybe, Imma little tipsy. Uh, I just came back from a party, ma forced me to go with her. Not my idea. It's her friends' like... fuck, I don't know, it was a party for something. Been around drunk strangers for most of the night, so—”

Sniper rolled his eyes, “Oliver, go to bed. You're a lightweight, you need to sleep.”

“Not yeeeeeet. C'moon, man, I love you. Can't blame me for wantin' ta hear you talk.”

“And you can't blame me for ending this call.”

“Sniiiiiiiipes,” the batter moaned, worriedly, “don't hang uuuupp pleaaase.”

He noticed the doctor beside him, holding his hand out for the phone. Without hesitation, the rifleman obliged, “Maybe you'll have better luck with him.”

“We'll see,” The German pressed it to his ear, “Oliver, you need your sleep, doctor's orders.”

A thud came from the other side as his voice turned shrill, “DOC?! HOLY Fuuuuuuc—sorry, sorry ma! I said sorry!”

“Somehow, our Oliver is more hopeless than you are.”

“Oi, I survived well on my own as is,” Sniper quickly objected with a glare as the field medic stifled a laugh.

“Ma, I'll get to bed soon, yOU go ta bed. Say that to my fucking face, doc, I'll show you hopeless. I'll- I'll make so freaking hopeless about me you won't, couldn't, uh, stand—stand it. Y-you're gonna love me so much that that uh thuhhh--”

“Oliver, you are talking nonsense now.” 

“Only when I'm with you.”

Emmet couldn't restrain his smile, “Mein Schatz, that was the cheesiest thing you could say.”

“What about you??”

“What about me?”

“Why're you over in Oz? What happened?”

Immediately, the smile vanished, “... I just needed a break from the stress, mein leibling.”

“Oh yea? You'll be okay?”

“... It is quite... unforeseen.”

Scout fell into an unusual silence once more, “...Don't say that bout yerself, doc, c'mon. I know you'll be okay.”

“That is sweet of you to say.”

“Then say it then!”

It took him a moment to compose himself, “I'll be okay. Oliver, bitte, go to bed.”

“Come over here and say that to my fucking face.”

He put a hand on the receiver to momentarily speak to the rifleman, “I have forgotten how stubborn he becomes when he's drunk.”

The runner still heard him and yelled back, “I ain't drunk! Tipsy, I said. Side's I'm right here.”

“You're a lightweight! You're practically drunk!”

“Shut up, 'm fine. 'M fine, just.. just wanted to hear youu guys.”

“Well you have, now will you PLEASE head off to bed?”

“No, and don't you hang up! I will call back... after getting off the floor. You know that wood floors ain't comfy to lie on? Don't, don't try it. My back hurts.”

“Oh mein Gott, why are you on the floor?!”

“I got dizzy, man! Phone cord's long enough 'sides.”

Medic quickly whispered after moving the receiver from his mouth, “Mundee. Help. Me.”

“Give it back, I've got somethin',” He handed the receiver back to Sniper as a sly expression appeared on his features. He purred lowly, “Oliver.”

“F-fffuck, don't do that but actually keep at that uh.. Yeah?”

“I have to say, you're givin' of a lot to worry about, you know?”

“Nnn sorry, I... I guess I shouldn't have called, I... you were the first thing on my mind and I didn't get a chance to call you all day—God, it's so fucking hot in here, shit sorry. Hold on.”

“Hot? You know, if I was there, I'd help with that.” The way he smiled as well as his lean against the wall with his elbow above his head gave him a rather sultry appearance, which Medic chose to ignore for the moment.

“Mundee, what are you doing?” Emmet questioned softly.

He simply winked at him, “Betcha feel pretty warm under those clothes, yea? What're you wearing?”

The voice on the other line steadily grew more unnerved as time passed, “U-um.. it's sort of formal, not really like, tux formal but, uh, it's a nice looking suit thing, cept I've got like, normal slacks on. And a tie, I got a tie on too, not a bow tie. I hate those, you know.”

“Yeah, you look good.”

“But you can't see me...?”

“I imagine you look good. Anyway to persuade you out of it?” His free hand gradually lowered and caught onto his lover's shirt collar to trail his fingers down the pathway of buttons. The doctor stared in confusion at the Aussie who merely smiled. Scout's incoherent fluster must have caught him off guard for he laughed and he removed his hand, “Now, you're just being adorable, mate.”

“M.. 'm not adorable... Did... Did you.. want me to uh, answer that?”

“Can if you want, but I'm not gonna give it away until I see you in person.”

“F-fuck... fuck... oh my god...”

“Could be tomorrow, next day, who knows? Just have to wake up and find out in the morning, right?”

“... Guess so...?”

“Sleep well. I love you, Oliver.”

The runner was reduced to noises now, small sounds of agreement and eventually the phone clacked. Pleased with himself, Mundee hung the phone back in place before returning his gaze to the field medic, his confused countenance holding tight.

“And there we go. The little brat is gonna sleep now.”

“Good. Now, who exactly were you talking to?”

“Our Oliver, of course. Be rude if I wasn't.”

“You were touching me.”

“Yea? Am I not allowed to do that?”

His eyes narrowed, deciphering his face. “... You know what you were doing. Care you explain it to me?”

Watching his eyes traverse up his physique, his mind clicked before his mouth opened, “You're smart. You'll get it.”

Emmet simply gave an unimpressed hum and returned to the dinner table.


	4. Consequences

“DO YOU SEE HOW EXPENSIVE YOU ARE?!” His mother shouting at him was not an abnormality, however the phone bill she was shoving in his face was definitely new. It caught him off guard when he came back home from errands that he dropped every bag.

“It ain't my fault that they live in other countries!” He managed to bite back after briefly composing himself.

“Oh, sure, of course, blame that. 'Cause it definitely ain't that you're talking to them for more than two hours, practically a DAY.”

Scout glowered down at her, “You're blaming _me_ for caring about them?”

“You're pouring our money down the drain, Oliver.”

“So what?! We've got plenty from my job!”

“That doesn't mean we need to spend it all! 'Specially on BILLS that you're RAISING.”

“What do you want me to do about it then!?”

Angie eyed her son, nostrils flaring, “... You either stop calling them all together or gettem to live here.”

“Just stop talking to them?! The hell kinda option is THAT??”

“I know you better than you know you, Oliver. You'll keep calling them and wasting power even if I tell you to cut your time short. You WILL be up at midnight talking with them and breaking your promise. So, it's either stop or go house shopping and deal with things yourself, cause I ain't helpin' ya.”

“Y-you—you...”

Her hand resting on her turned out hip as well as pursed lips told him immediately to shut up. With clenched fists, he stood there fuming. This wasn't fair. The options were entirely improbable. What if he couldn't persuade them to fly to Boston? There was only one way to find out. He mentally pushed his mother aside and grabbed for the phone.

“The hell are you doing?”

“Callin' them. I'm getting a house. I wanna see if they're up for it.” Angie refused to reply and swiftly picked up the bags that had been neglected off the floor.

No one responded, so it transferred to voice mail that Sniper had repeatedly forgotten to change. A beep sounded after the elderly woman's voice crackled into nothing. “Hey, it's me. Listen, I'm in a lot of trouble here. Ma's pretty irritated with me for, sort of, um, racking up the bills by calling you fellas, so... I've thought about this, I mean, I guess. No, I mean, ma brought it up. I'm going to look for a place where we can live... forever... so we uh, won't... so that our phone bills won't be expensive as fuck,” his tone became soft, “I don't want to lose you, alright? It's either this or not calling you at all. Ma's awful at dealing with shit like this. I, um... I think you'll like Bost--” 

There was another beep and the line died. “... Dammit, I should've kept it short.”

~~~

“Poor Oliver,” Emmet cooed to himself after going through the messages, “Hmm...”  
Boston... Because of Scout, he had retained quite a bit of information about the city. His words had described it to be a miniature New York, always lively and busy and nonstop movement. It wasn't a wonder that he loved it so much and that it was such a culture shock when living in New Mexico, almost desolate and quiet.  
“Scoutie leave somethin'?” Mundee's voice disrupted his train of thought.

“Indeed, apparently his mother is cross about this month's phone bill. So cross in fact that she was going to cut us off, but—” he added before the marksman's eyes could grow any wider, “there was another option to... well, live in Boston, with him.”

“Live with Scoutie? Like with his--?”

“No, he's looking for a house.”

“O-oh,” his face steadily flushed as his imagination flew around, “Yeah...”

“Are you okay with this? Do you want to leave this?” His eyes briefly shifted around the room then landed back on his partner.

“Yes.” There wasn't any sign of hesitation in his voice, “You made living here bearable but... I wouldn't mind living with him. It'd be like old times, right?”

“I'm glad you agree, but what are you going to do with this house?”

“... Don't know. It's so close to crashin' down it might as well.”

“You're... just going to destroy it like that?”

“My memories here ain't exactly sunshine and rainbows, Emmet. Mum was the only one that made it bearable, like you did. Fact, I was going to move out and find somewhere else to go but then you came along and became my top priority.”

“Forg--”

“Don't you start. You've got nothing to be sorry for." He kissed his cheek, "You're fine.”

~~~

“Mein Schatz, what are you doing up so late?”

“Look man, I found these really nice houses, ok they're mostly apartments but uh, ok, this one. This one's got like a nice den area, kitchen's decent too, uhh, there's a master bedroom. It's in like a okay neighborhood--” the batter paused momentarily, “holyyyy shit that's a lot of zeroes... Uhh. Hold on there's, um-Oh, here we go. This one's cheaper! It's got--”

“Oliver.”

Why did his name without fail send shivers throughout his whole person? “Y-yea?”

“What's stopping us from coming up there now to look with you?”

“Fuck, why didn't I think of that? But where would we sta--” He fought the temptation to just slap himself over how stupid he felt. “Hold on. Maaaaaaa!”

“Right here, honey, what is it?” Angie called from the sink, turning down the water faucet to hear her son.

“Um, I'm looking around for houses, right? So, uh, I'd also need _them_ to look with me... So, they'd need a place to stay...”

For a moment, her steadfast face relaxed as she contemplated, Angie exhaled, “Baby, if you really need to, fine, whatever, but there are going to be ground rules. Like no sex. I need my sleep.”

“Well, duh. That's only gonna happen when we get a house. Besides my bed's too small for the three of us.”

“Oliver...” Medic coated his embarrassment with a stern tone.

“Yea? When're you comin' over here?”

“S-soon. Do give us some time to get tickets and to take care of the house.”

~~~

“Mundee...” Emmet's tone held distaste, which was something he did not want attached to his name.

“Yea?” Sniper replied tepidly.

“What are these?” he gestured to the contents of the dresser drawer.

“...My, ah, clothes?”

“They certainly are not clothes! Look how many holes there are! These is ridiculous. They're just pieces of fabric at this point.”

“Easy enough to patch up.” He gazed questioningly at his lover's exasperated glare, “What?”

“We're getting you real clothes.”

“My clothes not good enough?”

“If you want to surprise Oliver in more ways than one, you will get better clothes.”

“... Well, if you say it like that.”

“Good. I'm glad we came to an agreement.”

~~~

“I still feel stupid,” Sniper adjusted his thin leather jacket once more. His new clothes had odd fabric that was stiff to move in, even though he had washed them and had been wearing it the whole flight. He was happy that they didn't scratch at his skin.

“Don't be. You look very handsome, mein Schatz... although the hat is definitely a bit much.”

“Hat stays, mate.”

“Of course,” Medic chuckled, “That and the sunglasses are practically your signature. It's charming.”

The skin on his ears grew a light shade of pink, “Thanks.”

The field medic checked his watch once more, “It's been thirty minutes. They could be stuck in traffic.”

“Want me to call 'em?”

“You can if you wish... You have his cell number?”

“Gave it to me a few days ago.”

They walked back inside the building and briefly searched for a payphone, which fortunately was located nearby the doors. 

“Hello?”

That wasn't Scout. “Mrs. Angie, we're at the airport. Sorry that we got here so late at night.”

“... What? You're here?! I, I thought that was tomorrow! Uh, hold on a moment, please.” The phone clacked against wood as he heard heels walking away. “OLIVER CHRISTOPHER WILLIAMS, WAKE UP!”

Next thing he heard was a lot of thuds and footsteps as well as incoherent shouting. Finally, there was a obnoxious bang and everything become silent.

“... Allo?” No response. Slowly, he hung the receiver back in place.

“Well?”

“They're coming.”

~~~

“Mundee, why are we not waiting outside?”

“Payback.”

The field medic's head cocked, “Payback?”

“Do you know how many times the little bugger hid from me?”

“... We... are hiding? Sitting at a table next the entrance is hiding to you?”

The extreme overhead lights did not excel in concealing his embarrassed face. Absentmindedly, he felt for his shades in his jacket pocket. It was a second resort to cover his red cheeks. At the moment he touched the visors; he knew that his lover was just going to rip them away and call him a 'dumb cough'. “We've both grown our hair out some and I've got my charming signature off of my head and Archimedes is under the table in his cage, sleeping. Just keep your face away from the doors, and we should be good.”

His gorgeous blue eyes rolled at how ridiculous this situation had become, “You know, he's never hidden from me.”

“I'm not surprised. You can easily find out of place things. I imagine he tried to though.”

Emmet giggled softly. “Now, why does he do that?”

“My reaction mostly.”

“So what do we do when he comes in here?” Sniper didn't expect him to acquiesce that fast to his faulty plan.

“Sneak out and find their car. Look for a green Mercedes Benz.”

“I'm sure it'll be parked out front-- Is that not him?” Sniper took a peek over his shoulder to notice their boyfriend looking around perplexed. For a moment, their gaze on him lingered longer, noting that their partner's garb was a bit more than casual. It was possibly his mother had a hand in what to wear. The vest and tie might be overdoing it but he looked handsome.

Managing to pull his eyes away, he slouched in his chair, “Piss...”

“Regretting your plan, are you?” He shifted to see that Medic had not removed his stare from Oliver's person. "He is finally dressed nice, for once."

“... Maybe, it's worth it though. He's getting further from the door. We should go now.” After gathering their belongings and sneaking around their unsuspecting lover, they headed back out to the parking lot illuminated by the light poles to keep out the penetrating darkness.

Emmet nudged the rifleman to look ahead of them, “See, right there. There's someone in it.”

“His mum,” He waved at the woman in the driver seat, who, for a moment, studied them before exiting the vehicle.

With her hair tied into a small tight bun and long purple shirt fluttering in the light breeze, she looked like an older Miss Pauling on first glance. She smiled broadly, revealing pristine white teeth. “I assume you two are Oli's boys, huh? I'm glad I can meet you handsome fellas properly now. Name's Angie Williams.”

“Emmet Humbodt.”

“Mundee.”

“No last name?” She inquired teasingly. “Or do you want me ta call you Mick?”

“So, Oliver told you 'bout that, huh?”

“More like overheard, you two were talking pretty loud. Speaking of him, you know you walked passed him coming out here right? Oh! There he is.”

Sniper turned in time to see his youngest lover's face grow tomato red with anger. SCout knew exactly what had happened to him by the grin alone. It took effort for the Aussie to not burst into a fit of laughter. “What took you so long?”

“You fuckfaces! Don't do that!” He only took a couple of steps before abruptly halting. Noticeably Scout's breathing hitched when his eyes darted back and forth between them. Gazing up and down their figures, his once tense shoulders slacked and his breathing calmed down. His face felt like it was burning off for a different reason. He was pretty sure he recalled Emmet's hair being slicker but now it had fluffed out meanwhile Mundee's hair nearly brushed his shoulders. It was so cute. They looked good... like REALLY good. He found himself chewing on his lower lip, when he eventually remembered that they tried to ditch him which set him back to glowering.

At this time, the marksman's expression changed vastly as a sly grin appeared. He slowly unzipped his jacket, immediately catching the batter's attention. Repetitively his fists clenched and released as if looking for something to grasp or considering to punch him, he shouted, “STOP THAT I'M PISSED OFF”

“I have eyes. Hold this for a sec,” he handed his coat over to Medic and ceased the space between him and the irritated batter, “Now, what're you pissed off for?”

“You fucking know, jackass. I don't like it.”

“So when you do it it's fine, but when I do it's not okay? Is that what's going on?”

The runner replied with fuming breathes as he occasionally glanced down at his nearly see-through white shirt and at the ground. Now that he was this close to his youngest lover, he took a minute to admire his person. His gel slicked hair glistened under the light bulbs. He looked so dashing, as if ready for a prom.  
“What's the occasion?”

Scout scoffed, “Meeting you dickheads. I look stupid.”

“Nah, you look mighty handsome in that. Although your tie is kinda wonky.”

“I got rushed. Ma and I don't know how to do a tie.”

“No worries, it would've looked like that anyway.”

His anger gradually began waning away, “What...?”

His fingers wrapped around the hanging fabric of his tie, pulling him closer, “Be a shame to see these nice clothes on the floor, wouldn't it?”

Sniper watched his lover's entire head heat up before taking the time to lean down and claim his lips. They were wonderfully soft and chapped like he remembered. He gently tugged him closer by his tie then proceeded to wrap his arms around his middle. Nonplussed, Scout stood there as he melted in his touch. Feeling the stubble tickle at his sensitive lips, it gave him a nostalgic memory of how much he had missed this simple detail. It wasn't long until he regained himself and eagerly returned the kiss, grabbing at the back of his shirt.

When he felt the Aussie's warm mouth drift away from his, he impulsively retaliated by putting a hand to the back of his head. God, his hair... He found himself stroking away at his locks, bringing laughter from within his lover. Eventually to his disappointment, the rifleman pulled away to then peck his forehead. For a moment, he gazed sweetly at his lover's pouting face. His hand caressed his the side of his face which Scout proceeded to lean into.

No words were able to be exchanged between them, either afraid doing so will only end in tears. The marksman turned back to their German lover and gestured him to come forward. Noiselessly, Medic obeyed and handed the jacket over to him. The batter gazed at him longingly before taking action. Pausing, he took his hand to squeeze. So soft and tender and familiar. He felt it gradually travel up his forearm and onto his back. Unable to contain himself to wait for his lover to initiate the kiss, he pounced forward. His lips firmly pressed against the field medic's as his hands traversed under his clothes. He felt the muscles hiding under the fabric. It took him a lot of concentration to not unbutton his shirt just so he can kiss them. An amused huff was his partner's response before returning the gesture.

Drowning in him, for a while, it didn't come to the runner's attention that he wasn't alone anymore. They were outside, in public, kissing like they were saying goodbye again. This wasn't farewell, however, they were going to live together. Running his hands throughout his thick hair and feeling the sensation of his hands on his lower back, it reminded him that they're real. They're touchable. They're kissable. They're _here_.

The last sentence echoed in his mind. He pulled away from his lips and buried his head in the crook of his neck. Impulsively, he chewed at his chapped lips while he vainly dried his eyes. Alas, the tears continued to flow with no signs of stopping.

For a second, Emmet could not wrap his mind around the runner sobbing into his neck, “Ol—iver..? Are you crying?”

“No...! These are man tears...!!” he managed to croak out, balling a fist in his partner's shirt

“Mein Gott.” Medic petted the younger man's head with a wide smile he was unable to cease.

The teary-eyed Aussie couldn't make a verbal sound. He merely put his arms around them and rested his head on the German's. Amused, Medic snickered to himself that he had become a pillow for these two.

“You're not going to cry on me as well, are you?”

A small groan was the marksman's reply. Briefly, his lips touched his temple before nuzzling his head once more. They stood this way for a long while, drinking in their reunion as long as they could. Slowly, Oliver lifted his head up and rubbed away at his eyes as he sniffled.

“Sorry...” he muttered shakily.

“Hush, mein leibling, you're fine.” His soft hand brushed his cheek once more. 

Hesitantly, Sniper opened his mouth yet ending up closing it as he wipes the tears from his eyes. He tried once more but no words were able to escape.

Medic smiled with empathy, “Mundee, you poor dear.”

“Ya missed me that bad, old man?” The runner ask as strongly as he could muster yet his voice broke again.

The Aussie gave a single nod after putting his jacket back on.

The batter cleared his throat, “C'mon, it's freezin'. We should go..." He noticed his mother at the back of the car. The luggage had all been packed up and Archimedes sat comfortably on her shoulder with closed eyes. She had a tissue clutched in her hand. "Ma, you can't be crying too.”

“What? No, no it's just, uh, my mascara running. That's all.” She quickly dabbed her eyes with the thin paper, looking over it in case of any traces of black. Angie stuffed the Kleenex back into her shirt pocket and walked around the car to open the driver door. She paused when she noticed her son about to enter the passenger side, “Sweetie, go sit with them there's a belt in the middle for a reason.”

Oliver blinked, then glanced at the field doctor by his side, who stepped away to let him in. He pushed the passenger door shut and eagerly crawled into the car to take his place next to the rifleman as Medic followed shortly after. 

Distance between the three seemed impossible. Even with their seat belts protesting the two wanted to keep Scout as close as possible, their heads pressed on his. The runner had no qualms, content with accepting Sniper's arm on his shoulders and Medic's fingers rubbing against his hand as they occasionally pecked his face. Even though it was hurting his cheeks, he couldn't get rid of his grin. Silence hung peacefully inside the car.

During the pauses to wait for the light to change, Angie would glance in her rear view mirror and her son so blissfully happy. She smiled to herself.

~~~

“Alright, this is it. Make yourselves at home, boys. There's a guest bedroom, second door to the right. The bed should be big enough.” Her head, as if on cue, glanced over to the hanging clock on the wall in the den, “Well, wouldn't you look at the time, I best be heading off. I got a friend expectin' me.”

Scout snapped out of his loving trance, “At like... eleven?”

“Why not?”

With lips pursed, her son stared at her suspiciously. “Ma.”

Casually, she edged back towards the open door, “You three obviously wanna be alone and I'm only doing this once so make it good.” she put a hand on the knob with one foot out the door, “Don't have too much fun, I want the house the same as I left it.”

The door closed shut. For a moment, the Bostonian stood there stunned before leaping at the handle. “M-MA!”

Locked. There was an extra key under the vase in the living room, but he decided against his impulse of running after her. Sighing, he turned back at his lover's equally flustered faces and offered an awkward smile after biting his lip.

“Is she always like this with your partners?” Emmet inquired slowly.

“More or less... So, um.” Abruptly, there was a strong pull at his tie to bring him forward, bumping him into Mundee's chest. His warm, wet lips pressed passionately into his neck. Oliver's body instantly fell limb as his eyes rolled back into his head. Drinking in the familiar feeling of his tongue on his skin, he whined when he felt it eventually slip away. A deep chuckle resonated in the Aussie's throat and he simply pecked his cheek.

He then faced the German, his dull blue eyes traveling up his appearance. He wet his lips before meeting his gaze, “What room did she say?”

After recovering from his momentary surprise, the field medic smirked. He caught the sleeve of his lover's jacket, urging him along, “Over here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and then they frick fracked which will not be written


	5. Unassertive

It was a undesirable habit to wake up at four in the morning no matter how she tried to change her sleep schedule. She blamed her eight sons that forced her to be up at all waking hours. School, sports, play dates, she enjoyed all of it at the time, watching them grow to become men. However, now that they had all flown from her nest, it was a terrible habit she couldn't break. At least coffee existed.

Out from her shower, she dressed in her white robe and strode into the kitchen. In minutes, a hot mug of black coffee warmed her hands as she took her seat at the dinning table with the sports page taken from the newspaper. Her mind occasionally drifted off the words. She was glad to be in her home again. She had returned to see that the guest room door had been modestly closed. Another habit she couldn't break was checking in on her children. She had to stop herself from grabbing the knob. For one, she didn't know what all happened, and if it was a scene she wished to see, so she left it alone and continued on with her morning routine.

It wasn't long until she heard footsteps. No, it was too early for Oliver to be awake. It had to be one of them.

She lifted her head to spot the German, thankfully clothed, who had immediately taken notice of her presence. His bird sat peacefully on his shoulder, grooming his feathers.

“You're up early,” Angie stated meekly.

“It's an old habit unwilling to break.”

“Amen,” she raised her mug slightly before taking a drink. She noted him standing there with his hands at his sides, keeping a safe distance between them. Was he trying to be courteous in the house of his lover's mother? Cute. Angie gestured to a chair, “Go on, sit. I don't bite. You want coffee?”

“Ah, ja. Thank you.” He hesitantly sat down as she stood to brew another cup.

~~~

Her stare caused him to shift slightly, “Yes...?”

She leaned over to poke his cheek. He only glanced at her for a brief moment before returning his attention to the coffee mug.  
Exhaling, unimpressed, she sank back into the chair, “I don't bite. C'mon, now, if you think I'm upset or something because you slept with Oliver, I'm not.”

“It's not exactly that.”

“Then what is it?”

“... The newness of everything.”

“You're not used to seein' me?” How cute.

“That is correct. I am unsure how to... act around you.”

“Aw, no need for that. Act like yourself, Emmet.”

Somehow, this did not bring him comfort like she thought. He simply hummed and took a long sip from his drink.

This was not going how she wanted it to. Even at the airport, he never looked directly at her. There had to be someway to... She had it. “You used to be a doctor, right?”

His pause was not pleasant, but her plan was already set in motion for her to not back away now, “... Yes.”

“So, at the company, you used to do, like, body examinations and DNA, all that stuff?”

This brought his eyes to finally connect with hers, “That I did.”

“So, you know, don't you?”

“I do.”

“Does _he_?”

“No.”

A small sigh escaped from her, “Good. That's good.”

“It is better this way, yes?”

“Definitely... I'm sorry to bring that up but, ever since Oliver told me about _him_ , I... I got curious.”

“You certainly hid it well.”

“When you're a mother of eight, you learn that hiding things steadily becomes easier to do. And speaking of... if you could tell me, I'd like to know from another perspective.”

“Yes?”

“How was he? Oliver? Did he fit in well? I'm only asking this, as you know, he has a big head. I remember our first phone call was him boasting about how respected he is. I'd like to believe it but...”

Medic gave a mirthless chuckle, “You are right to doubt. He was not exactly treated with the utmost respect. It was more like a baby brother, which I am sure he is used to and therefore tries to compensate by acting like a 'tough dog', as he'd say. Honestly, most of us thought he was a brat, he still can be, but it's tolerable now. I can easily work around it now than I did then. No one took him that seriously, either. In fact, he was quite easy to tone out at times.” 

She hummed with a ghost of smile on her lips. “What caused you to give him your attention then?”

Finally, there was a genuine smile, “Mundee. He eventually took a liking to him. During our time at the company, Mundee was antisocial to the extent of waking up, not converse with his colleagues, go to battle, and then stalk back to his van, over and over again. He never talked to anyone. When he did become stuck in a conversation, it was always one sided. The only input he'd give was grunts and nods until he was able to leave. It was then that I became curious. How did such a noisy little dummkopf attract a loner's attention? I decided to venture, in my own way.”

“And what way is that?”

This provoked an odd glint in his eyes as a rather nefarious grin slid across his face, his tone had become... menacing, “Experimentation.”

With confusion, she gazed at the German until her brain finally put the pieces together. Dumbfounded, she could not say another word, “...Oh...”

Suddenly, he began raving with exaggerated hand movements, irritating Archimedes to the point of removing himself off of his owner and resting on the table. Emmet never hesitated to go into extreme detail about his line of work, even if it had been a long while since he had seen the his infirmary or done any of his passions. As if briefly, his depression had slipped away as his eyes filled with ecstasy, recalling what exactly he had put in his two lovers just to get them alone with him. It was morbid, for he was never one to leave out details. Elaborating on how intriguing they were, how he yearned to learn more, their body language and mannerisms was clearly fascinating to the point of being around them more than he should. He considered himself fortunate to not have driven them away.  
Eventually, Emmet paused once he realized that she was still listening to him with a steadfast countenance. He blinked, unknowing if he should amazed or disturbed. He cleared his throat, “Usually when I talk about my profession, it leaves either an expression of horror or the recipient has left in a fit of panic.”

She merely shrugged, “You'd be amazed about what I've been through. That, and I have no idea how to feel about you putting God-knows-what into my son.”

His mouth twitched, “... He is alive, yes?”

“That is true. You didn't kill him. I appreciate that much.”

“I am surprised he never told you all this.”

“Probably didn't want to scare me into pulling him out of his job.”

Emmet hummed, musing, “... How did you feel exactly when—?”

“I really didn't care, as long as he was gettin' paid and was happy. I didn't care. Now that he's jobless though, we have enough to live on but... I am honestly hesitant on the whole house business, but as long as he's, you know, happy. That's what should matter, right?”

“... I couldn't agree more. I'm sure he'll be fine,” His expression had returned to be more sincere. Upon hearing hard footsteps against the wooden floor, the German craned his neck to view the semi-dressed marksman. He had only the bottom half of his shirt buttoned up. It took much concentration to not button it up himself. The field medic spoke with vague annoyance in the back of his throat, “Guten Morgen, Mundee.”

The Aussie mumbled a greeting after kissing the top of his head.

Angie just smiled before standing up again, “Coffee, Mundee? Black?”

“M'sure.”

“I'll get that for you then. Cute boxers, by the way. Identical to Oliver's.”

It took the rifleman a while to digest what the Bostonian had said. Immediately, his face grew a dark hue of pink.

“You dummkopf.”

“'M tired and was dark in there... Sun's hardly up.”

“My statement firmly stands.”

~~~

“Why I gave Scoutie my attention?” He mulled over Angie's question, “Um... I'm not sure. I guess I found him fascinating.”

“Yeah?”

“Yea, at the time I think I thought he was one of the only sane ones hired. Sure, he can talk the ears off of people, but, I don't know, something drew me to him. Maybe, I felt bad for no one listening to him speak. I can't exactly remember what I felt. What I do know, is that he became mighty interested in me real quick. Said he had never met someone like me before, I didn't know how to take that statement, but I didn't shy away. We bonded quite a bit until I looked at him one day and realized that I liked him. I thought I had became a dingus at that. I was never really into serious relationships, I thought it was always a waste. I don't know why that one particular day everything clicked and tried to move on with the day like everything was normal.” He shook his head, “'Cept I couldn't. I kept noticing things, like how he'd bounce his weight back and forth between each foot when he got impatient, the lip chewing, running his fingers through his hair. Each time he was flexing or stretching, it distracted me. I felt disgusted with myself that I had become a love sick pup for an obnoxious lil' tyke.”  
Mundee turned his attention to his partner with a playful grin, “Then you had to step in, always trying to get me alone, and made me feel like I've finally became a crazed gunman. You had some intriguing ways of flirting with me, still do, but their less creepy now, more endearing. Nice to not have my gut pried open at any chance you got.”

A dark chuckle rose from his throat, stroking his partner's chin, “We could always recreate it for old times sake.”

“The pigeon blood was the last straw, mate.” He gently pressed his index finger on the field medic's nose.

Angie said nothing as she watched them. It was nice to know that her son was in good enough hands. It was one less thing to worry about.

~~~

“There's the rascal,” Mundee grinned at the sight of Oliver dawning a shirt three times his size, “Glad you're back in the land of the living.”

A groggy groan was his reply as he took his seat and immediately placed his head on the table.

“Is that my shirt?” Medic couldn't help feeling amused. It was cute, endearing even. It had been too long since he had seen his youngest lover try on his or Sniper's clothes.

Scout hummed once more.

Angie withheld a laugh, “That's adorable.”

Unable to participate in further conversation, the batter put his arms onto the table and rested his forehead upon them.

“We're not gonna get anything out of him for a while,” she patted his head tenderly before getting up, “How about some breakfast?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little short one to hold over while I get over some writers block


	6. Vocalize

“What are we thinking thus far?” The landowner smiled awkwardly at the three men. Her expression and personality had vastly changed, when they pulled up to the apartment complex. During the tour, the smaller one would always stand a little closer to one of the older men. She refused to say anything though, which was kind on her part, but the stiff air held as she shuffled in place.  
Unfortunately, they had dealt with this preternatural awkwardness in the past, but Emmet and Mundee could handle it well; although their youngest lover always became agitated about these situations. The rifleman held him back immediately before he had a chance to lash out when she gave them an uncomfortable smile as they exited the car. At least, she was nicer than the last landowner, who shooed them away. They hated to have to literally drag Oliver away from the almost fist fight because of how much he squirmed under their grasp. Thankfully, they made it back to the car unscathed and Scout had been quiet since, fuming in the back seat.

Speaking of, Sniper gazed down at him to see that Oliver was still hovering over him and cradling his arm while his other hand held Emmet's. He continued to give the landowner a not so subtle glare. He decided to ignore it for now. Gazing around the room once more before turning his attention back to the woman, he finally responded, “Seems a bit small for us. Oliver?”

“Sure, whatever.”

Resisting to prod him or roll his eyes, he quickly looked over at his other companion, “Emmet?”

His distant gaze perturbed the marksman. It was like he was in another world, unable to hear anyone. 

“Emmet...?”

The batter caught on and decided to drag him out of his trance in his own Oliver way. He removed himself from the Aussie's side and stood in front of the field medic. He waved his hand abut his face, “Yo, earth to Emmet. You there?”

The German blinked, looking up and down his lover. “I'm here.”

“You sure? Been looking kinda lost for a while.”

“Was I?” Why did he sound so out of breath?

The runner glanced over at the lankier man, gesturing with his eyes as well as his head back at their partner.

House hunting will have to wait another day.

The rifleman nodded and gazed at the landowner once more, “I think we'll keep looking. Thank you for your time.”

“It was no problem.” She replied in a fake happy tone as she leered.

“Oh, I'm sure,” Scout reciprocated by mockingly mimicking her false mood, forcing a smile. 

The Aussie's stern countenance made the batter drop the act and Scout left the room in a huff. Rolling his eyes, Mundee sighed at his lover's short temperament. He gingerly grabbed Emmet's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before leading him out of the apartment. 

They walked in silence until they reach their youngest partner who leaned against the Mercedes Benz, tapping his foot impatiently and his hands fidgeting, “Well? Unlock the damn doors already.”

The rifleman kept a straight face, “Oliver, was that necessary?”

“What?! You saw the way she kept looking at us! She wanted us to leave. She wasn't even subtle.” He made wild exaggerated hand gestures as he spoke, ending it with a dramatic exhale as his arms crossed.

“She didn't say anything.”

“She probably thought about a lot of things she wanted to say.”

The marksman mirthlessly snorted, “Might be right about that, but that doesn't mean you can just lash out like that.”

“Whatever,” the runner looked back at the German. “Do—,” Oliver quickly caught himself, “Uuuh, you alright, Emmet?”

“I am fine. Really. I'm sorry, I just have a lot on my mind.”

Mundee nudged him, “Care to tell us?”

He held silent for a moment before shaking his head, “... Not right now. I would like to rest. Are we finished?”

“Yea, for now. It's best we all take a break.”

The Bostonian threw his hands up, gesturing at the car “Great, good, let's get outta here. Now?”

“If you can simmer down, mongrel,” Sniper flicked the runner's nose.

~~~

“I can't take this.” Oliver unbuckled his seat belt and shifted to his right side door while the car beeped in protest, startling his two companions in the front seats. “Pull over!”

Immediately, Emmet grabbed the ceiling handle, expecting for something to fly out in front of them, “What is happening?”

“I don't know??” Mundee began slowing the vehicle down as he put on the hazard lights, glancing in the rear view mirror and then at the batter, “Oliver, why am I pulling over?”

“Just pull over, dammit!” 

Without further questions, he obeyed and stopped on the side of the road. He and the field medic whipped their heads around to see Scout frantically pulling at the car handle, “What's wrong?!”

“Open the door!!”

“What for?”

“I need to get out!”

“Oliver, just calm down and tell us what's wrong,” Emmet tried to reassure,

“For god's sakes, just drop me off here and I'll catch up with you later.”

He was going to run to his mother's place? They were still a pretty long away from reaching it. He'll be dehydrated. “Hold on, let's go to a gas station first—”

“Nooo! Please, just let me out now!”

Mundee gave up trying to reason with the infuriated batter and obliged by pressing the unlock button. The Bostonian nearly fell onto the pavement face first when the door swung open. He planted his feet onto the sidewalk and, after slamming the door shut, bolted up the street.

“That fucking idiot,” the Aussie groaned as he watched the traffic, waiting for the opportune time to slip back in.

The field medic giggled, “It was cute that you thought you could try to convince him.”

“And I know better too.”

“He's going to be a smelly dripping mess when he gets there.” his nose scrunched up slightly at the thought.

“Maybe by then he'll be calm.”

~~~

They got to the apartment complex before him. It would take a long time before Scout arrived. Hopefully, he'll watch where he's going and not get lost and if they got a call from the hospital, Mundee would not hesitate to just punch that pretty face of his. The rifleman unlocked the correct door to be greeted by Angie who was just coming out of her bedroom. 

“You're back earlier than I thought... Where's my baby?”

“We had a few unpleasant landowners that pissed him off so on our way back, like an idiot he jumped out of the car and decided to run up here.”

She chortled, “Only way he can manage to blow off steam.”

“Gave us quite a scare too. Started yelling to pull over. I thought I hit something.”

“My god, did he really? I'll have a talk with him when he gets here. Oh, I was going to run some errands. Did you boys want to come or are you done?”

“I am done,” Emmet muttered, “but thank you.”

The marksman watched him wander into the spare room. He would follow him but he knew that he wished to be alone just by the way he walked.

“Sure, Angie, I'll go with you.”

“Cool, can I have my keys then?”

“Oh, right.” He handed them off to her.

“You're fine. Let's go.”

~~~

Emmet was awoken by harsh knocking. He blinked rapidly. He fell asleep? With his glasses on? He adjusted them as he quickly got out of the bed and rushed over to the front door. He unlocked and opened it wide to reveal a doubled over panting, really sweaty and smelly Oliver.

Without a word, the German snatched his wrist and dragged him over to the kitchen. He got into the refrigerator and handed him a bottled water. After missing a few times, the runner managed to grab it, uncap it, and immediately downed the liquid. Some of the water escaped from his lips to dribble down his chin and drip off onto his shirt. Some streams carried down his neck, over his Adam's apple, to meet his collarbone.

Emmet found his gaze following the streams of water and then proceed to stare at his torso. Watching his chest grow and contract with each slow breath, his hidden muscles on his abdomen bulged against his wet t-shirt that stuck to his skin. If he didn't reek of sweat, the German wouldn't hesitate to put his lips and hands on him now. He had a beautiful body that he will wholeheartedly admit, but what he won't admit is that it drove him at times whenever its on display. Of course, he can hide it well but the urge always hung over him as it did right now. If he ever said it out loud, Oliver would take full advantage of that.

Quickly, his eyes shot up to meet his face, when he heard Scout finish drinking. His breath snagged when he stretched out his back. The batter tossed the empty water bottle into the trash can before looking at his partner. He gave him a lopsided smile that made his heart skip a beat.

He ignored the undying temptation inside him to use his mouth to speak, “Feel better?”

“Yea, thanks,” he cleared his hoarse throat. “How bout you? You okay?”

He was going to respond with a white lie, but he stopped himself. Guilt had already settled in by keeping this from his companions. He'll be able to tell Mundee later when he comes back. “No, no I am not.”

“What's the problem?”

He prepared himself for an unwanted reaction as his gaze drifted to the side, “Oliver, if... if I am not a doctor, then just what... who am I? What will become of me?”

As silence struck like a knife to the back, his mouth could do nothing more but open and close as his brain went into overdrive. His feet shifted around. What the hell was anyone supposed to say to that? This was some heavy shit. The once comfortable atmosphere around them turned stale and hot in an instant just by his words.

“I've made you uncomfortable. I assume you think of me being ridiculous now?”

“N-no, no. You're not. You, um...” His head pounded harshly as if it were to fall off, “.... You... could always make a new identity?”

“With what upbringing?”

“... You've got us. Right? We can help you. You... you don't have to do it alone.” The skin under his clothes heated up from nervous and overcompensating thoughts to somehow comfort the German. It was rare enough for him to ever feel or be in such a state, exclaiming how perfect he is. To be reduced to a jobless nobody must have been a traumatic shock to reveal how human he always had been. That being said, even so, Oliver had no idea how to bring his mind at ease, since it was not his forte, “Just... 'cause you ain't a doctor anymore, doesn't mean any-- ok maybe it means a lot to you but- Dammit- Your... profession shouldn't... define you. Right? You're still, you know, Emmet, you just gotta work out a few kinks. Just 'cause you can't, like, do what you love, shouldn't ruin your life... you know? Fuck, I'm making this worse”

“No, no, keep going, bitte.” He noted that his face had softened. He must be doing _something_ right.

“Uhh... It'll take a lot of work but we're... we're here. We're gonna live in a nice place, the three of us. Any problem you have or just... We want you to be happy and comfortable. You know how much you change or want to change won't effect anything. You're part of this... you know, family. We ain't leaving you behind.” Scout chewed on his lip once more before shrugging his shoulders, “That's all, I've got. That probably sounded, like, really dumb.”

His smile astonished him, “Were you always this sweet?”

The room to him had become less stuffy and dry nonetheless his body still buzzed with heat. Was he still sweating? “Uheh, ma's probably rubbing off on me. Did... that really help?”

“Mm, it has eased my conscious somewhat. Danke, Oliver.”

Upon hearing his name roll off his tongue so perfectly, a shiver coursed down his spine. He kept his gaze down, embarrassed to see his face. “It's- it's no problem, man, I'm.. just, you know.”

Emmet's oncoming closeness blocked his view from the ground. “Oliver.”

“Y-yeah?”

His hand grazed by his cheek and into his damp hair. Instantaneously, the runner melted into his soft touch.

“I'd like to thank you, but first you are going to shower. You smell awful.”

The batter whined, feeling his hand move away, “... Or you could, you know, join me?”

An eyebrow cocked up as a small smirk appeared on his lips. Emmet only chuckled.

“I'm so taking that as a yes.”

~~~

Footsteps familiarly clicked behind him, raising the hair on his neck. He could feel the hot air breathing down his shirt again. He didn't have his razorback. He wasn't overly careful this time. He was a sitting duck with everything to lose. He felt the kurki in his hand and his body swung around with his arm raised up ready to strike down. Suddenly, a hand clasped around his wrist firmly, forcing him to drop the knife. The cigarette wreaking Frenchman was not behind him.

Angie smiled coolly, “Were you going to bludgeon me to death with cheese?”

They were in the grocery market. The clicking was heels. He nearly slapped Oliver's mother with a plastic container with cheese inside. His face engulfed in a red hue, as he swallowed hard through his now dry throat. His brain flat lined unable to use his mouth to apologize.

She patted his shoulder after picking up the cheese, “Easy, tiger. It's all in the past now. Didn't think it would happen _this_ soon, though.”

“... What?”

“Oliver did this to me all the time when he was adjusting. I always have to remember to stop sneaking up on him. Before he got the job, we used to do that to each other all the time, mostly when he was little. He never does it now and whenever I do it, he instinctively grabs whatever's near him and swing it at me. Nearly knocked me dead with a lamp, once.”

“He's... never told me that.”

“Not surprised, probably embarrassed by it. But I won't mention to him if you won't.”

“Yea, I rather him not... know what I nearly did.”

“Again, all's in the past.”

~~~

“You never told me what you think of the place.”

“Huh? Oh, yea, it's,” his eyes darted around outside the car window as he paused to choose his next word cautiously, not wanting to accidentally sound unhappy living here, “overwhelming... but in a good way.”

“You'll get used to it quicker than you know it, but that isn't what you think, you know. What do you like?”

By now, Mundee was used to the abundance of prodding questions courtesy of Scout. He smiled to himself, “Not sure what to think of it. It's huge and tall. Lotta lights. It's really nice to look at though. I didn't think I would be here, six years ago.”

“Mmm, amazing how things can just change like a dime in what feels like an instant, you know?”

“You know the feeling?”

“Oh, definitely. Did you think I wanted to birth eight kids? Hell, no, but I loved and raised them all anyway. I don't regret a thing.”

He released a pensive sigh, “I thought I would. I thought it wouldn't work out with him or Emmet even. But if I told them, that would be like saying I'm clingy or that I don't trust them.”

“I think that's normal though, but go on.”

“It was mostly because there was... I thought our personalities would clash. Oliver's obnoxious, Emmet's demented, and I's reserved. Then we hung out a lot more, we're still the same but... improved better? We know how to shut Ollie up. We came to understand Emmet's mannerisms and swings pretty fast to know what to do. They got me to contribute to conversations more.” The rifleman snickered at recollecting his resurfaced memories, “I realized sooner that Emmet wasn't exactly the type of guy to like to be touched a lot. The whole team sorta got that vibe from him but when you're a relationship it's different, right? Eventually, Ollie figured it out, though. We grown a new respect for each other than we had when we were just pinning teammates.” Angie watched his whimsical smile widen, “I can remember when he'd teach us a few German phrases. He'd laugh it up, whenever we'd butcher the pronunciation and criticize us, but, for Ollie, it was on purpose to get him to laugh like that. When he taught the word beautiful, Ollie and I abused it against him, because it made him blush so red. We did take it a little too far though when we did it on the battlefield, mostly my fault really. I accidentally made him deploy an ubercharge with no one around and he was just healin' our mates. He was healing Spook at the time, startling the hell out of him, so I only half regret it. Poor darl couldn't think of an excuse he was so flustered.” When he gaze met the driver's, he felt hot under the collar at her gaze boring into him with a mischievous smirk, “I... I was rambling wasn't I?”

“You were. It was cute though. You really do love them.”

“... C-course.”

“'M glad for you.”

“Thank you... Um, do... Don't tell Oliver I called him Ollie. He'd kill me.”

“My lips are sealed.”

~~~

“Say, just outta curiosity and outta nowhere, I know, but I've been thinking about this,” Angie stopped the car at a red light, “Did you get his blessing?”

"His--? Oh." The Aussie snorted. 

“Uh oh.”

“He gave Emmet his blessing but not me. He hates me.”

"Well, that's--" Angie paused as her brain clicked. She squinted at him, “Wait, were you the guy that throws piss at people?”

So she _does_ know him a bit, but did it have to be THAT bit? He cleared his throat, “... S'all in the past.”

“Oh my GOD, are you seriously using my words against me?!” She was grinning that was a good sign that she wasn't totally disgusted with him.

“It's a good phrase.”

“Oh my g-- how did I not put that together?!”

“So he did talk about me?”

“I remember now, yea, he did hate you. Damn, I can't believe I missed that.” She laughed curtly, “... I will give you my blessing though.”

“Really?”

“Yea, you both've been here for a while and I think you're okay... but why did you--?”

“Tactical advantage.”

“Hmm. Sure.”

~~~ 

Upon shutting the door to the apartment, she looked about for any signs of her son. Angie saw the bathroom door shut and a loud fan could be heard inside. “Thank god, he took a shower.”

Recalling his German lover, Mundee looked over to see that the guest room door was closed. After he helped Angie with the groceries, he slowly opened the door to see two bodies lying down in the middle of the bed. The Bostonian laid to Emmet's right with his head resting on the field medic's stomach. His arms wrapped around his figure. Their legs were tangled in each other. Emmet's eyes were planted on the ceiling with a sliver of a smile on his face as his fingers lace and stroked his lover's damp hair. The rifleman saw that his hair was wet also; he must have showered with him. That must have taken some coaxing. He grinned at the peaceful scene, not sure if he wanted to break the silence. When the German noticed his presence was then he decided to speak, "Aren't you both cute.”

“Wanna join?” the runner's words slurred a bit, fully concentrated on his hair being touched.

“Sure,” the Aussie climbed onto the bed and crawled to the other side, settling down beside Emmet. He gave him a swift kiss to his temple and put an arm around his shoulders. He felt someone's foot rubbing on his then a hand clutched his shirt. He looked down to see the batter grinning like the idiot he is with his eyes closed. Sniper took hold of his hand and pressed it repeatedly against his lips, earning him a gleeful giggle from his lover.

“You enjoying yourself?”

“Yeaaahh,” Scout mumbled dreamily and nuzzled the field medic's belly. The marksman squeezed his hand after one last kiss. His gaze drifted to Emmet, who eyed him musingly.

“Mundee,” he said slowly, “since you are here, I shall tell you as well, of why I have been distant.”  
This piqued his curiosity. His gaze fixed on the German, waiting for him to start. His companion took a breath, “I've been having issues concerning myself... my identity rather. Being a doctor, a medic for so long and have it be taken away, it has,” he paused, “It has left me unwholesome. As if something is missing and I cannot fill it. I tried to have this not happen, me telling you this. For a while, I thought I was being stupid but then it began to eat at me. I even _cried_ in front of you. I didn't want to put such heavy information onto your shoulders to worry about but... it is nice to finally get out of my system.”

Silence filled the room. Emmet was astonished to feel his lips against his jawline, to see him smiling, “You know, I've had what you're going through now, 'cept I had to go through it alone. Always had a knack for sniping from a young age. To have that suddenly taken away was odd. I wasn't sure what to do with myself while I waited out storms. I couldn't call either of you. I was bored and confused and being at my parent's place didn't help either. Fact, I couldn't get outta bed on some days. I let the not very positive memories of my dad hang over me, nearly made me regret a lot of things. I had realized something though, I had to accept the change and you know, try to get over it. What use am I wallowing around? Hobbies helped. I cleaned. I read. It was hard. Really hard to get over something you really enjoyed or loved. But unlike what I had to go through, you have us to help you. If I got over it, so can you. Nothing wrong with creating a new you. We'll love you all the same, won't we, Oliver?”

He hummed lovingly, “Still our Emmet no matter what.”

The German sat there tongue tied, unable to remove the beatific smile from his face. “I... couldn't ask for better lovers. You are too kind to me... Danke, mein leiblings.”


	7. Relief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this took too long, so sorry about that, was suffering from more writers block as well as other personal things but here you go!

Ending a discouraging month of lackluster results, it was a nice change of direction when they had set foot in a newly built apartment complex nearby a grocery market. The landowner seemed to give them a decent amount of respect even though they did earn an concerned eyebrow raise when they arrived. Oliver decided not to give him hell over it, since he didn't have the energy. Inside the room, the tour was cut short temporarily due to a phone call and the landowner left them to their own devices.

The two let Emmet walk around and examine the apartment, since he was in charge of the furniture and decoration. They were happy to admit he had better taste and knowledge out of the group, as if he has done it a million times. With a hand on his chin, he strolled from one room to the next before lingering in the master bedroom.

“Well?” Mundee inquired when the German entered the main area.

“Yes. I think this will be just fine.”

Oliver pushed himself away from the wall, “Please don't say you're joking.”

“I'm not joking.”

The marksman chuckled at their youngest partner's building ecstatic grin, “Hold on there, mate, let's not get too excited yet.”

Signing the papers wasn't too long after and then the keys were handed off. They now stood in their new barren home, waiting to be furnished.

“We... we did it.” Oliver was shaking from exhilaration. He whirled around to face the two men, “We fucking did it, fellas!!”

“Took a while but we did do it, huh?” The Aussie mused, smiling.

“This is gonna be OUR home guys! OURS!” He shook the rifleman by his shoulders, “We're going to LIVE here!”

“Whoa!” He chortled, “Easy there, darl—mmph!”

Having his lips suddenly roughly claimed by the smaller man, surprised him enough to stumble back into the nearby wall. He had no idea if it was unbeknownst to his partner with how firmly his body pressed against his, not that he exactly minded. As he leaned forward to reciprocate however his warm mouth and person left his and twirled around the room, unknowing what to do with this bundled up energy. They finally achieved their goal. He exhaled with a mixture of relief and happiness and a bit of pleasure from that kiss he craved more of.

Suddenly, he felt another set of lips caress deeply at the crook of his neck which made his heart flutter with adrenaline. He blinked and his gaze shot over to Emmet who gave him a rather alluring yet blissful grin. He then felt his soft hand gliding from his jawbone to underneath his chin. This sent a shiver down his spine. Of course, he walked away from him, the tease. This _lovable_ tease.

“You bloody bounce,” he grumbled under his breath. His glowering expression vanished as he watched Emmet lift their youngest lover off of his feet from behind and spun him around a few times, causing him to squeal. They had smiles stretching to their ears. The German planted a kiss on the nape of his neck. While the batter squirmed with energy and his legs tucked up, Emmet was practically holding him up like he was a fully grown Great Dane to try to keep him in place. 

The marksman stepped over to them, beaming at the sight. “Having trouble there with the lil monrgel, luv?”

A exasperated grunt rose from him even though he was still grinning. The Bostonian's gleeful energy was radiating and rubbing off on them to be unable to stop smiling. Eventually, the field medic released the runner but he stayed in place this time, well, jumping in place, “We diiiid iiit!!”

“Ja, ja, we did. Please, settle down.”

“Make me, old man!” Neither of them could respond before he dashed over to the kitchen and picked up the phone sitting on the counter, “'M gonna call ma!”

It wasn't long until he had a response from the other line, “Ma! Ma ma ma ma!”

Mundee caught himself staring at the Bostonian running around to each corner of the room as he chattered into the phone like a lovestruck idiot. He glanced beside him to see that the Emmet was doing more or less gawking at Oliver like the rifleman had been doing. “It's... beautiful how he's like this, you know?”

The German blinked and looked over with a blank expression. 

A light pink blush flushed over his cheeks, “That not the proper word choice?”

“Oh no, I, it fits him.” He set his gaze back on the batter now lying on the floor, still rambling on to his mother, “He is beautiful, but I do agree it shows more when he is this ecstatic.”

“It's precious.”

He hummed in approval, “He'd kill us if he knew we were talking about him like this.”

“Be worth it,” silence held between them for a brief amount of time, “... We should probably start looking for a bed now though, while we still have the car.”

“Indeed. I'll try to pry our Oliver away from the phone.”

~~~

Oliver snorted, grabbing one of the boards for the bed, “We don't need directions. This stuff's easy.”

“Darlin', you're clearly outvoted.” Mundee snatched the wood board out from him, “We are following the directions.”

He turned, whining and giving him his signature frustrated pout. How cute.

Emmet joined in, although his eyes were planted on instruction papers in his hands, “Not looking at the directions doesn't make the process go faster, Oliver.”

The whining grew louder.

Rolling his eyes, the Aussie put the board back on the ground and reached down his pocket to hand him the keys to the apartment door, “If you don't want to help, you can go grocery shopping and get kitchen supplies.”

After a moment of pondering the temptation to keep arguing, the batter gave up and grabbed the keys, begrudgingly, “Fine. There better be a bed when I get back!”

Oliver waltzed through the den, out the front door and shut it firmly. The two gazed at the door before the rifleman finally faced the German, “... He didn't take the list.”

Upon hearing the door unlock, they looked to see their youngest lover, not as confident as before, waltz through and into the small kitchen.

“Near the toaster,” Emmet called out when the search prolonged long enough.

Mundee watched him with a growing grin as Scout snatched it as well as his wallet. He made his way outside, but he paused before slamming the door again to point at the two, glaring, “... Shut up.”

“Love ya, darl!”

“Fuck off.” He closed the door with a bang.

“Such an adorable lil yobbo.”

“Indeed, Mundee, be a dear and hold this up so I can screw properly.”

“Sure, luv.”

~~~

“Holy shit, this is complicated.” The marksman stared, bewitched at the parchment.

“Nein, it cannot be that complex. It's a bed frame. They're numbered as so and--" he scanned through the tiny pile of screws and nails, "... Do we not have a hammer?”

“I dunno.”

“... Das ist nicht gut.”

“We can always use the screwdriver to—” He received a grim countenance from his partner. He sighed quietly to himself, “Want me to call Angie?”

“Sure.”

With a grunt, he got up and left the bedroom towards the kitchen. The large telephone was not hard to miss near the refrigerator. He ran through the phone number in his mind to make sure it was correct before typing it out.

“Hello?”

“'Ello, Angie.”

“Mundee! How're things in the new apartment?”

“Ah, goin' alright. Buildin' the bed right now, uh, you wouldn't happen to have a hammer, would you?”

“I do, want me to come over there?”

“If you'd be so kind.”

“Lucky for you, I feel generous today.”

He couldn't resist to chortle, “Thanks, you're the best.”

“Ain't ya sweet. By the way, you fellas want somethin' to eat? Maggie and me are bout to head out to McDonnell's, you want any?”

“Sure, hold on, Emmet, you want Maccas?”

“Was?” He called, distractedly.

“Maccas.”

His back straightened up as he turned his head towards the portal with his eyebrows knitted, “Was?”

“Mac Donnell's, Emmet.”

“What about it?”

“Do you want Maccas?”

His nose wrinkled up, “Ew. No.”

Amused by his response, he snickered and shook his head, “Ok. Says no, 'm sure Oliver will want it though. Ah, he's out right now. Emmet is there anything you want?”

“Nein.”

“You sure? Not even a burger?”

“No.”

“You even hungry?”

“Mundee, please, I am busy.”

“Still need to eat.”

He didn't reply.

“I'll get him to eat somethin',” he said mostly to himself than to Angie.

“Alright, I know Oliver has a regular order at that place, what do you want?”

“I'll just have what you'll get 'im.”

“You okay with a fish sandwich? Just making sure you're not allergic.”

He blinked. Ollie liked fish? He never said that. “Not allergic, don't worry. That's good for me.”

“Ok! See you in a bit.”

~~~

“C'mon, darl, enough working. You need to eat.”

“I am fine.”

The Aussie brought a fry from out of his bag and waved it in front of Emmet's nose. Almost instantly, the German swatted his hand away and looked at him with narrowed eyes, “Really, Mundee?”

“You got your unhealthy habits resurfacin',” for a moment, he studied his weary eyes. The corner of his mouth twitch downwards, “Nothin' wrong with taking a lil break.”

“Do you want to have a bed to sleep in tonight?”

“It'll still be here when you're done eating, luv.”

With a firm shake of his head, he set himself back to work. It wasn't long until he smelled the fried potato under his nose again. He drew out a long breath, unimpressed, “Mundee.”

“At least have something to hold you over, please?” He stated the last word as sweetly as possible.

Emmet huffed once more and bit into the fry. As he chewed, he welded the hammer in his hand once more to continue on with the bed. When Mundee held out another fry to him, he took it without hesitation while he worked.

The continued on for ten more minutes, until the front door's latch clicked and audible wind flowed into the apartment. Briefly afterwards, the door closed and grunting could be heard in the den.

“Need help in there?” Mundee called out.

“I'm—fINe..!” There was a loud clatter, "I got it!"

Later, the runner stepped into the room and paused by the entrance, looking at the nearly finished frame of the bed then at the mattress resting against the wall.

“You know if we had another set of hands we would've been done by now.” The rifleman egged with a smirk.

“Ehh,” he merely shrugged.

“If you won't help, go shower. You smell.” The field medic waved his hand in a shooing motion.

“Fine,” the Bostonian exhaled, stalking away.

“You know it's sad when a bird is more helpful than an actual person,” the marksman said loud enough for their youngest partner to hear.

“I heard that! And that bird is doing jack shit!”

Emmet glanced down at the pigeon nesting on his leg, always keeping an eye on his master's hands, “You're doing a good job, Archimedes.”

“Fuck you,” Oliver's voice carried out again, making the Aussie tremble with laughter.

~~~

Intense quaking of the mattress under him woke the Aussie up in a state of confusion. He sat up and squinted through the dark to see Emmet holding Oliver's head in his hands. It was too dark to read their expressions but Mundee could see the youngest man writhing.

Panic knocked any amount of sleepiness out of his system, “What's going on? What's wrong with Ollie?”

“He's having a night tremor. I can't wake him up! I've tried everything!”

No no no no, NO! The rifleman gripped the batter's arm, vainly trying to shake him awake.

“Stay with him. I'll call an ambulance.” The bed dipped and then rose back up when he hopped off the mattress.

Tears stained his eyes. His voice was already quivering, “Oliver, please, darl, I need you to wake up. Please.” 

Only scared whimpers and whines emanated from his partner. He felt his quivering hand grab at his arm. Quickly, he took it into his hands, squeezing, “It's Mundee, your love, Mundee. Please, Ollie.”

“I can't find the phone?! Wo ist?! Wo???”

The German's yelling was drowned out in the marksman's mind. Frantically thinking of varies ways to get him to open his eyes, if it's one thing neither of them have thought of, he hoped it would work, “... Scout! Scout, wake up, please.” 

“Mundee, where did you put--?!”

Abruptly, the batter's eyes opened wide, and his body lunged onto him, knocking them both to the floor as he shouted, “GET DOWN”

“Thank fuck, you woke—mm!” his shaking hand clasped over his mouth. His eyes stared wildly around; his weight pushing against Mundee's body, keeping him down. Whatever was going on in his head, he did not acknowledge the fact he wasn't in his nightmare anymore. Anxiety swept over Mundee like a wave. The hospital still might be an option if they couldn't get him to calm down. He noticed the field medic above them, slowly leaning down. The rifleman fruitlessly signaled for him to stop. His hands grabbed at Oliver's sides, making him freeze in place.

Upon feeling himself being lifted away from his companion, set himself off once again, shrieking, “NO GET YOU'RE FUCKING HANDS OFF ME DON'T TOUCH ME DON'T TOUCH HI—”

Desperately under a lot of physical protests, Emmet firmly put a hand on his lips. The runner persistently tried to remove it as he kicked at the German's shins. Fortunately, Emmet's grasp on his lover held surprisingly strong, “Oliver!! Oliver, it's me! It's me, halt still!” When the batter ceased squirming in his grip, he did not stop hyperventilating through his nose. Slowly, gently Emmet embraced the smaller man. The poor Bostonian flinched at the contact. His lips pecked the back of his head, “Shhhhhshhhhhh, look around you, Oliver. You're safe. You're here. You're in Boston. You're in our apartment. Remember? You're safe, you're with us.”

At this point, Mundee found the strength to stand up. Hoping that his next move won't cause a nasty reaction, he carefully cupped Oliver's face. The batter's breathing hitched, gazing at him with lost bugged eyes. His lips quivered. He looked like he wanted to scream again. It made the Aussie's chest pinch at the sight of how much his nightmare terrified him. “Hey,” He put on a smile, immediately catching his partner's attention that his breath snagged again, “He's right, you know, always is.”

His once stiff body eventually reduced back to violent shivering. His hands grabbed at the field medic's arms, as he leaned back into his embrace. Tears willingly flowed down his face but his countenance was relaxed, despite his upper teeth gnawing at his bottom lip.

“Shhh, mein leibling, it's okay.” He pressed his lips onto his forehead, “Let's get you in bed, ja?”

Effortlessly, the German hoisted him up into his arms, bridal style and was about to ease him onto the middle of the mattress when his lover suddenly concealed his mouth and gripped at his stomach. Without another word, Emmet tried to hurry out of the room and into the bathroom but Oliver stopped him.

“Du bist gut? Sicher?”

He nodded, swallowing hard. The batter panted lightly and nuzzled into his chest to hear his heartbeat. He was coherent enough to listen, that's good. Gazing down at the poor Bostonian, a frown tugged at his lips. Affectionately, he rubbed his hand at his side and gave him a swift kiss to his temple.

“If you wish, mein Schatz. No vomiting on the bed.” He got a small grunt from him. He carried the Bostonian back into the master bedroom where Sniper sat on the bed now, worry lining his face. “Is he ok?” 

“For now, I hope,” the German placed Oliver down on his designated spot in the bed as he whimpered in protest. Curious, he put his palm on his forehead, “Scheiße, you're burning up! I'm getting a wet rag.” 

The runner immediately cried out as he watched him leave, causing the German stumble in his step. Mundee lied down beside him and cupped his face once more to direct the Bostonian's attention onto him, “Hey, don't worry, he'll be right back, I promise. We're fine, luv.”

Oliver gaped at him. It wasn't long until he was nestling up to him, nuzzling his head into his neck. His shaky exhales tickled his skin. Mundee reciprocated the embrace cautiously and kissed his ear.

“You better not spit up on me now.”

The runner groaned in melodrama. The rifleman snorted then proceeded to rub his back.

The marksman had nearly forgotten these occasional night tremors his poor lover had. What he didn't forget was how to ease him once the panicking phase had ended. He drug out Oliver's face which earned him a pout from taking him away from his warmth. He smiled at that before leaning in and caressing his lips with his own. The runner wasn't required to return it but on occasion he did to show his appreciation. He had learned during their time at the base that kissing him this slowly and sweetly relaxed the youngest man immensely. He didn't need to ask why it worked to way it did. Mundee was more than happy to oblige if it helped him to calm down. The batter hiccuped, his tears seemed to be flowing down faster. The Aussie reassuringly shushed him through his low toned voice in between gingerly pressing his lips onto Oliver's. He continued to rub his hand up and down his back.  
Mundee heard the front door open. Strange...? The next thing he heard was unfamiliar voices. The neighbors asking about the screaming, no doubt. He pushed that aside and kept his mind onto relaxing his lover. Eventually, Oliver's breathing matched his own, deep and slow and steady. Thankfully, the tear flow has stopped as well. His work was done, he gave one final kiss to which the batter returned and studied him. His chest gently rose and deflated. His eyelids stayed closed for a few moments longer. There was a ghost of a smile on his face. Silently, the marksman let out a breath of relief and briefly pressed his forehead against his.

Soon after, Emmet arrived back into the bedroom with a damp rag in his possession. He positioned the rag onto the runner's temple after taking his place on his side of the bed. Oliver gave a small pleasurable moan at that and opened his eyes.

“I ruined our first night here, didn't I?” His voice drew out rather hoarse.

The two exchanged surprised glances, Emmet responded first, “You did not ruin anything, mein Schatz.”

“Yea I did. Now we're all up and I probably woke the neighbors.”

“Hmm, you did actually, they were at the door when I went to get a rag.”

“Fuck.”

“Oliver,” Mundee whispered, wiping another tear away, “You're fine. Not like you can control these things.”

The batter hummed, unhappily.

“Sit up, if your stomach is that upset you need food and water.” The field medic gestured at the unzipped Ziploc bag of crackers and a bottled water.

His head shook rapidly in response, knocking the rag askew. Sighing, the German fixed it back in place and glared at their youngest companion. He held a Ritz cracker in front of his mouth, “Essen.”

“Nnn-mm”

“Do you want me to do it the bird way?”

He repeated his last reply but louder.

“Then EAT it!”

“Fine...!” he held the rag in place as he sat up slightly. The Bostonian took the cracker out of his fingers with his teeth and chewed. He was handed a bottled water before he began struggling to swallow.

“Keep eating. Slowly.”

He groaned once more but obeyed him, eating one cracker at a time and rinsing it down. He downed a few more before the German removed the bag from his grasp. “I think that's enough”

“Good,” he mumbled curtly.

“Danke, mein leibling,” Emmet brushed his fingers through his partner's hair. The runner shifted slightly in reply while a smile crept up his features.

The marksman squeezed his hand, “You okay with telling us what happened?”

He blinked, “Oh, yea, sure. Uh, I was at the base again. Everything was like it used to be. Solly was yelling at me. You were sittin' by yerself. You were with Heavy. It was like this never happened and then I don't know. All I saw was flames and I heard gun fire. I couldn't find anyone.” He pressed his hand on his chest and winced, as if he had prodded a irritated wound, “I couldn't breathe. That's when I woke up, I guess. I thought, I was like, a goner—You know, you doing that is really distracting.”

“Gut,” his fingers twirled the strands on the top of his head, “You need a hair cut.”

“You really saying that to me?” He giggled, “Look at mullet over there.” 

Mundee rolled his eyes, “Don't complain, you both like it.”

“And I had no idea your hair was that thick.”

“That's why I keep it short." Emmet smirked, "Too much to maintain.”

“I liked it though.”

Emmet merely hummed.

“Sorry, just, out of curiosity,” the marksman stuttered awkwardly, “And if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. How long has it been since you had one of those?”

“Oh, uh... Damn, a while...? Um,” his eyes narrowed as he thought it through, “... I think it was a month later of coming back here. That one... that...”

“Hey, you don't have to talk about it, luv,” the Aussie squeezed his hand again, “That was a pretty long time ago, though.”

“Yea, well, that was just one of the worst ones. I did have a lot of random ass nightmares that wake me up at like three in the morning... until, you know, you two came here. Then they stopped. Thanks for that.” He reciprocated the hand squeeze. The Bostonian cleared his hoarse throat and let himself catch his breath. After a momentary silence, he then suddenly asked, “What do you think everyone's doin', anyway? Betcha Soldier's livin' in a dumpster.”

“Apparently, Pyro is doing well for himself. He's the head of a multimillionaire corporation, Frontier Engineering.” The German stated.

The marksman blinked, “Oh yeah, I read about that, that was Pyro?”

“No kiddin', do you think if I go over there he'd let me have some of that? We were pretty good pals,” Oliver managed a small smile.

“You'd have to ask him yourself.”

“How did he even get a job there anyway? You'd think he'd go be a fireman or somethin'... get it? Fire man?”

“Got it, luv.”

“Ja, ja.” He shook his head at his partner's terrible joke, “I'm sure Heavy is happy back with his family.”

The batter flipped the rag over, “Aww, you miss your boyfriend?”

Emmet just rolled his eyes instead of spitting back an answer.

“Ol' Tavish probably at home drinking away.” The Aussie thought out loud.

“Got no doubts on that one... I hope Miss Pauling's okay. She actually gave me her number, but I think she wrote it wrong. It was just dial tone, no ringing.”

Quickly, the rifleman choked back a laugh, "She probably knows your number, mate, she'll call you eventually."

"Been nearly a year, man, no dice."

"You never know, your little crush might give you another chance."

He glowered at him with that lopsided smile, "Oh fuck off, ya ass."

"Wanka," he jabbed back, affectionately.

“You know, Dell and I were in contact for a while but he suddenly stopped answering my calls...” The field medic admitted modestly.

“You never told us that,” the runner pointed out, stupefied.

“It never crossed my mind to.”

“Ever tried again, here, Emmet?” Mundee prodded.

“Nein, he's a busy man that doesn't like distractions.”

“Unlike you?” Oliver gave him a smug smirk.

The German looked down at him with a cocked brow, “Please, I let you do that to make you feel better.”

“That's a lie. You wanted me.”

“I wanted to experiment on you.”

“You keep making up excuses. You never want me to be satisfied, do you?”

“Hmm, maybe. Your rambunctious impatience does amuse me so when it isn't totally annoying.”

Oliver huffed, dramatically.

“That and you become so dramatic. It's adorable.”

“Shut up, you dumbass.”

Their banter had always been too cute to listen to. The rifleman smiled to himself and eventually yawned.

“Eh, I made you guys stay up so late.” Oliver groaned, guilt dripping in his tone.

“You're fine, darl,” he poked his nose, “You wanna try an' sleep now? How're you feelin'?”

For a moment, a twinge of fear appeared on his face. He then glanced from the Aussie to the German and smiled, “Yea, I think I'll be alright but... um, Emmet?”

“Ja?”

“Could you... uh... you know that uh... you know.”

Emmet was smirking, “No, I don't know.”

“Hmph. You know that song you used to sing. That song.”

“Yes? What about it?”

“... You know what I'm asking you.”

“Do I?” He would tease him about singing him a lullaby, but he decided against it; their poor dear had gone through enough for the night. “Hush, I'll sing it to you.”

The younger lover scooted over to his side, eager to be snuggled, “Thanks, man.”

"Of course." He knew 'Lili Marleen' enough that he had memorized the lyrics and would always sing his birds to sleep. He recalled the ignorant batter, sneaking in and eavesdropping. He was unfortunate, however, when he tried to leave. It was so cute how he was desperate to explain himself, how he had never heard him sing before, and then he was swiftly kicked out. After their relationship was established, it wasn't exactly a routine, but whenever he couldn't sleep, Emmet would sing that same song until he did. 

Mundee, too, knew about this and even a few times watched the song work it's magic. It was so precious to see them cuddled up like this, to hear him speak his tongue so soothingly. When he first witnessed the peaceful moment, he took it and kept it in his heart to easily remember it. He didn't want to be greedy with it though, so he cherished it when he chose to sing as much as Oliver did.

Noticing that the Aussie's eyelids were drooping, without stalling his words, he removed his arm from the runner and tugged at the rifleman's shirt. When he caught his attention, Emmet gestured with his head to join in the snuggling. Willingly, Mundee shifted towards them and draped his arm about their persons. He closed his eyes to solely concentrate on the man's voice with his head gently pressed against Oliver's.

The two fell asleep shortly after the second to last verse was sung and soon Emmet followed. None of them stirred for multiple hours. It was finally peaceful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no this isn't done yet, although this would be a great ending but I got a few more things left to cover


	8. Blush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: there are some homophobic slurs and not very polite comments about poly but its only in this one chapter.
> 
> also holy frick this is a long ass update that I'm not sorry for but what I am sorry for was the wait, I'm almost done with school!

Examining the line of fruit displayed along the counter, his eyebrows furrowed. They did buy a blender, right? He decided to ask the one who was in change of anything apartment related. “Emmmeeet, where's the bender?”

“Cabinet above the stove.” his voice carried out from the den.

Oliver flipped the door open, squinting before descrying the appliance, “There it is. Thanks!”

Of course, it had to be in the back, Mundee must have put it there. He put a hand on the stove top to push himself up so that the rest of his left arm can frantically grab at the blender within its shelter. He shifted around impatiently, feeling the stove knobs uncomfortably press on his lower stomach. Frustrated at his vain attempts, he nearly called out for the German again until his hand finally grasped the appliance and proceeding to knock it over. Quickly, he took his other hand off the top to stop the blender from falling onto his head. At the touch of the cold metal, his right hand pulsed angrily at him to which caused him to drop it anyway.

“MEDIC” his shrill scream followed after the blender collided onto the floor cause a loud clank. He gripped his inflamed palm, seething through his teeth, “fuck! Fuck fuck fuck...!”

Abruptly, the German burst into the kitchen, assessing the situation. His wide eyes stared at the batter's hand clung to his chest then around until it landed on the stove top to see that one of the electric burners was bright red. Without a word, Emmet had grabbed Oliver by the wrist and put his hand under sink, running cold water on the wound. The runner bit his lip from the burn tingling in protest. To distract himself, Oliver watched him flick the stove knobs, pick up and place the blender on the counter after examining for any sign of damage, open the fridge door, and bring out an ice bag, which he set beside the sink. He took his wrist again, squinting through his glasses. To the runner, it didn't look too awful. Sure, his skin was red and peeling and it hurt like hell, but he could brag it was nothing compared to his whole body set on fire. He didn't though. It came to his mind, yes, but when he looked at Emmet again, at how concentrated and stern he became. He said nothing while he worked to clean and ease the runner's throbbing palm with the oil he grabbed from one of the drawers. It was like he was looking on his surgery table again, fully focused on his work. Immediately, guilt settled into his gut like he swallowed a brick. It was instinctive, it was an accident, he had to believe that.

The feeling of cold plastic on his palm jogged him out of his thoughts. It was done. He didn't need orders to tell him to keep the ice bag on him until the healing was finished. Slowly, his gaze traveled up to meet Emmet's, who's pupils grown small, staring at him awestruck. Frantically, Oliver explained himself, “I-I swear I- that was not— It was an accident, I swear! I didn't mean to call you that! It was friggin' like, instin—”

“Oliver.” He froze at his emotionless tone. “What I did was instinct as well. It seems like we cannot merely move on.”

His humorless chuckle set him feeling uneasy. Oliver kept his attention onto the ice pack, “I'm so sorry. Emmet, I'm really sorry.”

The warmth of his body enveloped his person, instantly giving him comfort, “Shhhhshh, you're fine, mein Schatz.”

“I'm sorry.”

He felt his soft lips brush against his neck. His eyelids fluttered closed, as he consciously leaned into the rare embrace. He was forgiven but he continued to feel the undying urge to apologize again. He knew his lover wasn't angry at him. He didn't need to apologize again yet the guilt still hung. He wanted to beat himself over the head for being so stupid.  
They took in the stiff silence between them. It was oddly uncharacteristic for Oliver to have nothing to say that it perturbed him to an extent. Slowly, Emmet removed himself from the one-sided hug and cupped his lover's head. His eyelids still held shut. When he pecked the top of his head, his eyes opened to finally met his. They were moist.

“Süsser, you're fine. There is no need to beat yourself up about it.”

Abruptly, Oliver pushed himself onto him to embrace him and made sure to position his hand in a way to not press the ice bag into his back. The German held his ground and instantly returned the gesture. They stood like this for a prolonged amount of time in a more comfortable silence.

“... Should we tell Mun about this?” His voice cracked.

“He's going to see the burn, might as well not hide it from him.”

He nodded into his shoulder. He refused to pull away.

“I love you.”

“Lieben dich.”

After another squeezed, Oliver slowly brought himself away from his warmth.

Emmet smiled briefly. “Feel better?”

“Do you?”

It slowly sank in that he extended the hug for his sake not for his own. He pecked his lips, “I do, Süsser, I do.”

“What's... that mean? Suusser”

“Sweetheart.”

“Oh...”

The field medic hummed lightly. He turned his attention down at his wounded hand then at the blender, “brauchst du Hilfe?”

“Um, no, man Ich kann es tun aber danke.”

“Your pronunciation is getting better.” He squeezed his unscathed hand, “Do be more careful of your surroundings, bitte.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

~~~

Oliver and Emmet sat at their garnet sofa to read as the batter finished his smoothie, which felt excellent on his healing hand, when the front door clicked and creaked open. The Bostonian took his eyes off his book to see the Aussie had returned with multiple grocery bags hanging off his arms, “I'm home.”

“Hey, babe, lemme help you,” Oliver hopped off the couch and over to his partner. He instinctively held out his dominate injured hand and grabbed one of the bags. Pain spiked in his hand by the weight and he proceeded to drop the plastic bag with a yelp.

The Aussie took his wounded hand by his wrist after setting the grocery bags down, “What the bloody hell happened to you?! This is awful looking.”

“Ju-just a little burn, dude, no big deal.”

“This is not a lil burn. What happened?”

Oliver shifted, avoiding his eyes slightly. “I was just trying to get the blender and I guess I turned the stove on. By the way, don't put so far in the back. I'm not tall like you.”

“I'm sorry, luv... But what actually happened?”

“What, uh, actually happened?”

“Yea, you look like a guilty dog for tracking dirt inside, what did you do?”

He glanced back over at Emmet, who had put his book aside to watch. He hated that stern expression especially when it was directed at him, “I... might have, uh... called for... medic when I got burned. It-it honestly wasn't on purpose, I swear!” He grimaced at his own voice crack.

“... Darl, I believe you. C'mere,” Without hesitation, Oliver slid into his arms with his head pressed into his chest. The rifleman then smiled at the field medic and held out a hand for him, “You too, luv. Get over here.”

Slowly Emmet obeyed and let himself be pulled into the embrace. The marksman's gentle warm lips kissed at his face, forcing him to genuinely smile as a warm flutter inside him grew. 

“You're smiling. Good. Very good.” He gave his shoulder a squeeze before turning to Oliver who had buried his head in his shirt, “Can you not forgive yourself, darl?”

The quiet was his answer.

Mundee pouted slightly and nudged him with a finger to his back, “It's all in the past, luv. Right, Emmet?”

“Of course.”

“See? You're fine, Oliver, you're fine. You haven't hurt anyone. It's all pretty much ingrained in our minds, really...” He chortled albeit, a little nervously, “You know I nearly mistook your mother for a spook. She snuck up behind me on our grocery trip. I didn't hit her obviously, she's got good reflexes. I got forgiveness outta that, you know. I was still embarrassed about it yes but I got over it. Can you get over this too?”

After a few more moments, Oliver just nodded.

“You sure?”

He nods again more determinedly.

“Look at me then.”

He surprisingly obeyed, staring.

“Can you get over this?”

“Yes.”

“Good, could you smile for me then?”

A bit amused, the runner gave him a halfhearted smile.

“C'mon, lad, that ain't a smile. You're lucky that I know a remedy for that.” He peppered his neck with kisses. It wasn't long until he finally got his lover to be giggling and smiling. “There we go, that's better.”

“You're a dork.”

~~~

“FUCK”

That was a nice way to wake up. Groggily, the Aussie awoke from his much needed oversleeping, since it took him two hours for his body to realize it should sleep last night.

He heard the German and Bostonian's loud conversation perfectly from the den as he stayed in bed until he was fully awake.

“What is it now, Oliver?”

“I forgot!”

“Forgot what?”

“My ma's birthday is freaking tomorrow how did I miss that!? I don't even have anything!”

“I'm sure she'll understand. We have all been busy--”

“No, I seriously need to get her something or she'll never let me live it down.”

“... Surely, that's not--”

“Oh, don't believe me? Let's call her then, just watch!”

“Oliver...”

There was a hint of silence.

“Ma! Hey, I uh, got-- How did you know? … Oh. What do you mean it's okay?? What...? You're not... No, it's your birthday I get it. I got it. Is there like a certain time or something? … Sure, I guess. Bye.” He didn't have to be there to know that Emmet was smirking at him, “don't give me that stupid 'I told you so' smile.”

“Ooohhh, but you didn't _believe me_ ”

“Shut up.”

Emmet picked out a really comfy mattress; Mundee didn't particularly wanted to leave it. In fact, he found himself with more blankets around his body as his mind casually drifted off.

“I'm going to see if our Mundee has finally woken up yet.”

“What, is he sleeping beauty now?”

“He might as well be.”

That was a jab at his multiple naps in one day wasn't it?

He heard his footstep creep closer towards his side of the bed.

“Look at the jackass, stealing all the covers for himself.” Oliver must be at the door. The Aussie was thankful that it was easy for him to keep a straight face. “Are you gonna rip them all off?”

“Mm... That is tempting but I think I have a better idea.”

Eventually, he felt the German's breath tickle his nose and then his lips gently touched upon his. Mundee vainly fought back a smile and his eyes opened to see Emmet taking up most of his peripheral.

Emmet looked up towards the runner, beaming, “I have woken the Dornröschen with true love's kiss!”

The batter nearly doubled over laughing. The marksman's cheeks lit up with a pink hue, maybe he shouldn't tell them he'd been awake for a while now. This was a much better wake up call, “I don't sleep that much.”

“We're not getting into that discussion again. Get out of bed, Mundee.”

“'S'warm,” his words slurred together due to his sleepiness.

“That's nice but it's time to get up.”

A no was muffled as he dived further into the blankets. Instantly, the covers vanished from above him to experience the cold air. He actually yelped at the contact. He sat up and glared at the German who then put his hands up to indicate it was not his doing and gestured with his eyes to the end of the bed.

Oliver, still snickering like an idiot, held the blankets in his hands.

“You better start running lil mongrel.” He urged forward slightly which caused their youngest lover to quickly take action and flee into the den.

He didn't run after him though. Slowly, he hoisted himself off of the mattress and gave a swift kiss to Emmet's soft lips. “Did you have to fight a dragon to get to me?”

“Oh yes, a nasty one named Oliver.”

Mundee barked with laughter, “He's a tough one to beat, that one.”

Suddenly, the Bostonian jumped out as they entered the the living room, “RAARRRR, It is I, Oliver, the nasty and sexy dragon! You will never best me!”

“We shall see about thaAH” Emmet collided onto the carpet floor, knocking his glasses askew. He opened his eyes to see a slightly blurry Bostonian taking up most of his peripheral with a Cheshire-like grin. 

“Got you.” It was obvious to the two of them how easily the field medic could release himself from his grip and pin him down but Emmet let him have this.

“Oh yes, I was such a fool to think otherwise.”

“Hell yea, you were.”

“Spoke a little too soon, luv,” the batter felt himself lift up into the air and onto the Aussie's shoulder.

“C'mon!! That ain't fair, I had him! Lemme go!” He tried to squirm his way out of his grip, punching his back.

Rolling his eyes, Mundee obeyed and proceeded to drop him onto the couch. He bounced and ended up with his rear on the carpet. With a pout, he got up and quickly launched himself over the back of the coach and tried to tackle his target. The rifleman caught his hands and held them back, as Oliver desperately tried to push through by firmly planting down his feet.

“Give it up, darl, you know we can pin you in seconds.”

The Bostonian rapidly tried to throw that picture out of his mind and used any amount of strength in his arms to push back, “I ain't a quitter, man!”

“You're gonna hurt yourself, mate.”

“Nnmph...! No!” Desperately, the batter tried to push back at the Aussie's advances that led him shortly into the wall. “Fuck you! You're a shithead!”

“Alright, darl, calm down.”

“No!” He vainly struggled to free his hands.

“Help?” He addressed to the German, who sighed at their youngest lover's annoying perseverance.

Emmet stepped closer to the pinned batter, “Unfortunately for you, Oliver, we know your weakness.”

The two exchanged glances and nodded while the batter glared skeptically, “... You two promised you would never tickle me again.”

“And that's still being kept-- Now, Mundee!”

They kissed the sides of his neck, which stunned the batter to momentarily stop breathing. The Aussie smirked as he released his wrists.

Shortly after coming out of his stunned trance, a chill ran down his spine and he quickly cleared his throat. He slowly lowered his arms as well as his gaze. The two seemed satisfied. Frustrated, he tried to use his voice only to realize that he couldn't keep eye contact with either of his partners. This only pleased them more.

“Works every time.”

“And it's adorable every time. I'll start breakfast now,” Emmet gave the Aussie a swift peck on his cheek before strolling into the kitchen.

“Alright.” He took the batter by the hand, bringing him away from the wall, “You doin' alright, luv?”

“Whatever.” He cleared his throat once more, “So, uh, Mun, my ma's birthday is tomorrow and she invited all of us. We're gonna be there in the evening, so, you know, wear something nice.”

“I'll try,” He didn't need to look over to their German lover to receive his expression of determination. He knew he was going to be forced to look nice, “Are we getting her a gift?”

“Well, no, since we've been pretty preoccupied she said that we don't have to... which is good... for me, cause I have no idea what to get her.”

“You've always been terrible with picking presents out.” Emmet mused loudly from the other room.

Oliver glowered, “Oi, at least I _tried_!”

The Aussie ruffled his hair, “And that's what counts, darl.”

“Shut up, man.”

~~~

“See, mein Schatz? You look fine.” Emmet adjusted the length of his lover's shirt sleeves.

The rifleman grunted, glaring at the bathroom mirror, “I look like my dad.”

The German had never seen his father before let alone what he wears but apparently suspenders and a red plaid shirt was enough to make his partner more irritated about dressing up. He then took his old hat that sat on the bathroom counter top into his hands, “If I let you keep the hat, will you be less grumpy?”

“... Yes.”

He let Mundee take the hat from him and place it on his head, tugging it down slightly. He smiled a bit, “That's better.”

“Now you look like Mundee.”

The field medic enjoyed watching his cheeks glow with a light pink hue.

“Thanks, darl.”

“Alright, fellas, how do I--?” Oliver could stop the abrupt laugh fast enough at the sight of the Aussie.

“... Spit it out, ya mongrel.”

“You look like a grandpa.”

“See? Even he thinks so.”

Emmet gave the side his face a small pat, “Ja, whatever, get over here Oliver.”

The two switched places for the batter's turn to be clothes checked. They have done this countless times in past to have it ingrained in their brains to just stand still and let the field medic do his thing. It had been acknowledged in the past that Emmet took this time just to touch them. The two had agreed to try not to bring it up to the field medic fearing he would stop if they did. 

He looked at the mirror to get a better view at what his German lover was doing. He fixed his crooked collar, folded it down and redid the buttons of his green striped shirt, claiming that he did it wrong. The runner did his best not to smile too broadly as he brushed the nonexistent dust off his shoulders. It was adorable, endearing even. 

Oliver found himself just eyeing the field medic's mirror counterpart. He always appeared to look so beautiful and regal in just casual blue shirt with a light gray jacket over it and slacks. It was probably his face and the way he stands so straight with his broad shoulders so... broad. Oliver wasn't the greatest when coming up with compliments.

“You look good.”

Emmet didn't look up from his task of brushing his hair, “Are you talking to your reflection or me?”

“You, jackass.” He said with a pout. He winced at the to the brush pulling at his head, “Ow.”

“Danke.”

“Do you have to do my hair too, _mom_?”

“Yes, liebling. Your mother has given me strict orders to make you look presentable.”

“When was this?!”

“Oh, while you were out. It was the same conversation of when she asked if she could pick us up.” He glared at the smirking German, “There.”

“Still should've said yes.”

“I thought you didn't mind exercise.”

“I don't but ugh... you gelled it too, didn't you?”

“Of course-- Don't touch it.” He swatted his hand before he had a chance to poke at his head. He then grabbed a hair tie off the bathroom counter, “Mundee, could you come here, bitte? I would like to try something.”

“What is it, darl?” He leaned against the door frame and briefly checked out Oliver, “The hair suits you.”

He gave him a curt growl, glaring at his reflection.

“I want to tie your hair back.”

He withheld a cheeky smile, “You hate how long I'm growing it out, don't you?”

“It's getting out of control. It's past your shoulders.”

“That doesn't sound like a problem.”

Emmet sighed, trying to not be too irritated with him, “Just let me tie it in a ponytail.”

“Okay, okay.” He turned around and flinched at the rather rough grip of his hair, “Uh, easy there.”

“Don't worry, babe, I got the scissors outta his reach.”

“Thanks.”

“There now turn.” Mundee obeyed. The field medic played with his hair, putting it over his shoulder, letting it down, adjusting the hair tie to not be so close to the noggin, until he was satisfied, “Ach, viel besser.”

“Glad I passed your test.”

That finally prodded a smile from him, “Indeed, we should be going. Are you done sulking, Oliver?”

“I ain't answering that. You're gonna see more of this face when you get to know my brothers, so get used to it.”

~~~

“Darl? Can you give us some background here of your brothers?”

“What? Uh, sure?” He shrugged. Might as well while they waited for the elevator, “There's Geoffrey, the eldest fucker of them all. He was so controlling. I friggen hate his guts that I could never land punch the guy, ugh. Uh, Nate wasn't as bad but he was still a fucker. He'd play pranks on us and he was my ride to school for fucking years because I failed my driving test, so he played me often. Dipshit.” He grumbled. The elevator announced itself by dinging and sliding the door open, while the batter continued on after following the two men inside, “Anthony, he was okay. I remember that he worked as a playboy bunny while he was in college and snuck into our house with naughty magazines for us to look at. It took ma a long time before she found out.” He snickered at the memory, “Riley... I actually don't remember much of. He was always away from home. David was always picked fights and I was his punching bag. Edwin was a total shit and relied on me for everything, I was pretty much his pack mule because that's like pretty much a fucking law for anyone who is the youngest outta the whole family. Cody, I'm okay with, only because he was dumber than a brick and easily caved into peer pressure and then there's yours truly which you already know... pretty well.”

“Too well, really,” Emmet corrected smugly.

“Heh, yeah,” the runner adjusted his jacket once more after the elevator arrived on the correct floor. He addressed his lovers, sheepishly as they walked down the hall, “Ok, alright, so, first things first, fellas. I ain't sure who all is gonna show up so just, you know, be ready cause I don't know how they'll react to... you know... us. So if they say something, I know how to deal with it.”

The Aussie huffed, “You're going to punch them, aren't you?”

“Well duh.”

“It's your mother's birthday, Oliver--”

“I know! I know!” He threw his arms up, “I know, I... it'll be their fault if they take it too far! You two don't deserve that.”

The two men exchanged glances, Emmet frowned, “That is very considerate of you, mein liebling, but if they do we rather not drive to a hospital.”

Oliver exhaled loudly in exasperation, “What do you think I should do then?”

Mundee shrugged, “... Talk to them?”

The batter eyed him, squinting, “You know it is seven against one right? That has never worked out in my favor before. Why do you think I joined track?”

The marksman shifted, “They're all older than you, right? They've probably grown up and not as violent as they used to be.”

“That's called wishful thinking.”

The German put a hand on his shoulder, “Oliver, give them a chance.”

“... Christ, fine! Fine.”

They walked down the hall until the batter stopped at the correct door. The Bostonian rapped at the wood until Angie's voice rang out from the other side, “It's open!”

She must be busy cooking. The runner opened the door, stepped into the narrow hall, and peered into the den area, “Oh, thank god, we're the first ones here.”

“Guess again, _Ollie_ -boy.” Oliver immediately cringed at his nickname. A tall semi-decent dressed man stepped out from within the kitchen, rolling down his sleeves. He took long strides over to them, crooked teeth bared, “Decided to release you from the slammer for a day?” His accent was a lot thicker than his mother and youngest brother.

“Goff...” Oliver watched with pleasure as his eldest brother grimaced with his name mispronunciation.

“It's... pronounced... Jeff.”

“Then it should be spelled with a J if it's 'pronounced' that way.”

Geoffrey combed through his greasy blonde hair as he decided to ignore him and studied the two men behind his brother, “Who are these guys? Oh, they're your crazed teammates, ain't they? The hell are they doing here?”

Oliver's eyes had grown huge as his mind flat lined. He had to be the one to say it. He knew that they weren't going to intervene for him this time. It was his family he had to be the one, yet his throat failed him. This was entirely different from him coming out to his mother. This was the guy who had no remorse of making him feel inadequate. That buried fear came rushing back to him. He fiddled with the collar of his shirt and avoided his gaze as he desperately tried to revive his brain. This seemed to give his elder brother amusement, “Aw, you're tremblin'. Are you scared, lil boy? Aw, are you gonna cry? You gonna cry now?”

If Emmet didn't have a grip on the back of Mundee's shirt, the elder Bostonian would have been on the floor with hands at his throat. He gave the marksman a wary meaningful glance. _Let him handle this, if not,_ I _will intervene._ With clenched fists, the batter tried to avoid his voice from cracking as he spoke, “I ain't scared of you.”

“Yeah, sure, anyway,” he directed his attention back onto the two behind him, “This has gotta be a joke, right?”

Oliver's head jerked up to glare at him, “Don't...”

“Not talking to you, pipsqueak.” On instinct, the runner threw a punch towards his mouth but Geoffrey automatically knocked it aside with his arm. He continued as if nothing happened. “Listen, I'm okay if you two are fags with each other, but if my kid brother is in the mix of it all, I'm afraid that's crossing the line a little bit. The Oliver I know isn't into the faggot business so whatever you two did, I'd like you to reverse whatever you did and leave. My brother still just a kid he doesn't know any better.” Fuming at his words, Oliver couldn't think. He tried to land another punch to have his brother quickly grab his wrist and twist it. He then pulled the runner towards his person and into an embrace, “I'm glad to see that they haven't totally changed you, because you're still predictable as ever.”

His heart was pulsing in his ears. With huge eyes, he stared at his lover's furious countenances. The grip the field medic had on the Aussie became firm and had moved onto his arm meanwhile the rifleman was ready to punch his brother in the throat. He struggled against his tight uncomfortable embrace, “Let me go, shithead...!”

“Did I hug you too hard? Sorry 'bout that, kid. Why don't you go help ma or something and let us adults talk about adult things.”

That's it. The batter poised himself to pounce onto him, but the German's accent sliced clear through the air like a knife, “Who exactly do you think you are?”

Geoffrey blinked, “His brother? I'm practically his legal guardian, you know, I'm the eldest out of the eight. Someone's gotta look out whenever he makes stupid decisions like this.”

Emmet crept forward, chin raised. His gaze drilling into Geoffrey's pale blue eyes. Quickly, he back up a few inches to keep his distance. “You're protecting him from something you don't understand. If you were respectful enough to even listen, you could understand or even have an inkling of what this relationship is and how long it's been going on, but seeing that you don't look like you want to and honestly I get that. I do. You're pathetic. You're so pathetic that it astounds me to just accept that I can only assume that you haven't change at all since childhood. Your stature, your speech, your clothes. You're practically a homeless, jobless man, no matter how hard you tried to look your best; you are a walking oblivious conman. You have probably lied to your own mother about how you're doing and what you're doing. Now, no matter how hard you will try to keep us away or even lie for our Oliver, for the sake of _you_ feeling safe, not for him,” Emmet's old demented smile had appeared on his lips. Abruptly, he grabbed his chin, causing the elder Bostonian to yelp at the pain, “I won't hesitate to end that pitiful life of yours. Do you understand?”

Geoffrey nodded wildly as he hyperventilated.

“Gut, I'm glad we can come to an agreement.” He released him from his grip and Geoffrey scrambled away to keep a safe distance between them.

The field medic adjusted the hem of his shirt before turning to look at his two partners who were staring in awe.

Oliver rushed to hug the field medic, he breathed, “I love you.”

“I love you too." He held him securely in his embrace, "It was the least I could do to shut him up.” He pecked his cheek for good measure and looked towards the Aussie who gawked with his lips slightly gaped. “Mundee, Süsser, you look like a codfish.”

He closed his mouth, blinking. “Can I still punch him?”

“You can if you wish,” Emmet smiled coolly and took the runner's hand, “Come now, we should greet the birthday girl.”

The batter's eyes lit up at that. Without waiting for his lovers, he dashed into the kitchen. 

Before the German left to follow Oliver, he patted the rifleman's shoulder, "Don't kill him now."

"Oh, don't worry, it'll be over quick."

"Wait! Please is there anyway you could spare me?" Geoffrey squeaked, seeming to be stuck in place. "What can I do? I have money! Tons of it! You mercenaries like that stuff, right?"

He cracked his knuckles, "You sure I can't kill him?"

"You would have to get permission from Angie."

"Hmm... I think I'll be more satisfied with givin' him a nice beauty mark." He took one stride towards the frozen fearful Bostonian as he swung his arm back and proceeded to bring his fist across his face. He watched him with a triumphant grin as Geoffrey stumbled to vainly maintain his balance, covering his face.

He turned back to Emmet, exhaling, "That felt so good."

The field medic did not need to give him a verbal response, his proud countenance spoke more than enough. He motioned with his head to the kitchen to follow the jocular laughter from inside the kitchen. When they entered onto the tiled floor, Angie's attention was immediately taken off her son and onto them, “There you two are!” She held her arms out for the Aussie, “Bring it in, Mundee.”

“Happy birthday, Angie,” he leaned down slightly to embrace her dainty figure. She could always somehow bring a smile to his features with the smallest things.

“Thank you. I love your hair. It suits you.” The German ignored the conceited look he was getting from the rifleman. She turned towards Emmet but paused in her step before she hugged him, “Right, sorry, you're not a hugger.” She held her hand out.

For a moment, he was mildly surprised at the respectful gesture. He nodded and accepted the handshake, “Alles Gute zum Geburtstag.”

“Oh! Was that happy birthday in German? How cute, I love it!” 

Oliver hastily intervened, when he noticed his eldest brother hovering near the doorway, positioning himself away from the two men. He had a new large bruise forming on his cheek. “Hey uh, ma, who else is showing up?”

“Uhhh, David and Anthony. The rest couldn't come due to business, school, wives, kids, you know,” her voice faded as she downcast her eyes back on the pot and continued stirring.

The runner's mouth twitched, “Well, it's their own fault for not taking time to even spend one day with you. You can chew them out if you want you know, you're the mom here. Besides, you got one of the most important kids here. Me.”

She looked at him with a sly smile and pinched his cheek, teasingly, “Yes, I do.”

“Ma!” He pushed her hand away, “You promised not to do that!”

“I couldn't help it!”

“Oi, uh, ma, can... I talk to you for a sec?” Geoffrey stepped in after he eyed the two foreign men. He pointed with his thumb towards the den.

“Baby, if you can't handle gay men for me then I suggest you leave.” The apartment fell silent, sans for the boiling water.

Her eldest son stared bug eyed. “M-mom, I...” he took a wide sidestep away from Emmet, who had edged toward him slightly just to watch him squirm. “I just think it ain't right to--”

“Don't finish that and don't think I didn't overhear that conversation earlier. I would have stopped it myself if Emmet didn't. Mundee and Emmet are just about as family as everyone else under my roof. But hearing what you said, I don't know if I want you to be under my roof anymore and if you cannot tolerate it. Leave.”

“N-no no no! Ma, I can! I--”

“You manipulated me once for inviting you. I'm not giving you the chance to guilt trip me again.”

“Ma, this ain't normal! It's—it's... immoral!” He gestured wildly at their direction. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Oliver making faces at him.

“To you, it is. I'm sorry I didn't bless you with my open minded brain or... intelligence, but you need to go.”

“Ma!”

There was a knock on the door, “Oh! That must be one of my sons. Geoffrey come with me.” She dragged him by a tight grip of his ear.

The three men watched them in awe until the two turned down the hall out of sight then looked at one another with equal pleasantly surprised countenances. The batter strained to hear any hint at a conversation when the door opened. He heard a sweet thank you and the door shut. Angie rounded the corner carrying a see-through plastic container keeping a chocolate covered cake inside.

“Turns out it was the delivery boy! Would you look at how beautiful this is?” She met their stares after placing the cake down on the kitchen counter, “What?”

“Ma, I just wanna say, this is probably the best birthday I've ever been to.”

“Definitely,” Mundee added.

Angie cackled loudly and ruffled her son's hair, “Ain't ya'll sweet. Now, I highly doubt Dave and Anton will go that far like Geoffrey but if they do let me know, okay, guys? We're family here and my boys don't deserve that kind of treatment. Besides I've been dying to kick that lazy asshat. Lyin', manipulating, where did he even learn such things? I raised my kids better than that. Am I right?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Oliver replied a little too smugly, puffing his chest out.

“Good boy,” she patted his shoulder to boost his ego and then looked at the field medic, “Emmet, I'm sorry in advance, but I have to,” she wrapped her arms around him. Emmet, for a moment, was taken aback before he slowly returned the gesture. “Thank you for protecting my son.”

His confused expression fell instantly at how fragile and small her voice had become. He held her petite figure close, “Of course. We are family, are we not?”

“Yes. I'm sorry. I'm just glad my baby is in good hands.”

“You think I can't take care of myself, ma?!”

"Oh, I know you can, but it's good to have support too." She removed herself and smiled sweetly before pecking Emmet's cheek. She then returned to the stove, waving her hand, “Alright, that's enough sappiness. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Can you boys help me get everything ready? Table, plates that stuff?”  
“Sure, ma,” the Bostonian glanced at his lovers and then squinted up at the marksman. Why were his eyes full with tears? The batter nudged him, “... Don't you start crying now, c'mon, babe.”

He blinked and quickly dried his eyes with the back of his hand, “'M sorry.” 

This got her attention, “Aw, Mundee. What's wrong? If it's about Geof--”

“No, no, it's—I guess you just remind me of my mum. She'd do things like that for me all the time.”

Angie solemnly nodded, taking in the hints that she wasn't around anymore. She took a small questioning glance over at Emmet, that seemed to be enough to prod a head shake out of him. How sad.

“Well, if you like you can call me ma too, I mean the three of you are practically married anyway.”

The batter's face became rose red, “M-ma!”

“What?!”

“... Married?” Emmet's voice was nearly inaudible.

“Of course! You guys are living together, paying it, doing you know, married coupled stuff.” She studied their red hued stupefied faces in amusement, “Have you fellas actually not thought about that?”

Quiet no's resonated from them.

She simply shook her head, “I honestly thought you'd bring that up, Oliver. Isn't that why you—pfff” Her sentence was abruptly stopped by laughing at her son desperately trying to shut her up by poking at her sides. If his face could get any redder, it might explode. “Ok, ok! I'll stop teasing! I'll stop.”

Oliver glared daggers at her as she set back to stirring. He breathed heavily and he searched for something to fiddle with until he left for his old room after he remembered he had a stress ball. When he returned, his gaze eventually traveled to his lovers again. Emmet had been staring into empty space for quite a while Mundee examining his right hand, he had no doubts he was imagining a ring on his fourth finger. The batter said nothing and focused on his ball.

Angie took a moment to look back at them and gave them a pitiful smile, “Man, I've really broken you guys, shit.”

“Shut up,” the runner replied automatically.

~~~

After a few minutes, things cooled down for the three enough to help Angie with chores. Every now though, Mundee would look at his ring finger and at times get caught. Since none of them wanted to go through another episode of embarrassment, no one teased him about it and simply nudged him to remind him of what he should be doing. He thanked them sheepishly and set himself back onto his task.

Soon there was another knock on the door.

“It's open!” Angie called out over the beeping oven.

The door could be heard swinging open and then promptly shut. Heavy footsteps wandered into the kitchen. Another tall rather dashingly dressed man stepped on the tile floor. Peering over for a moment from the dining room, Oliver was thankful that David decided to be semi casual for their mother unlike Geoffrey. His eyes fixed upon the small bag he held in his hand and he cringed. Of course, he brought a gift. He watched David as he waltzed towards Angie, “Evenin', ma, am I late?”

“Not at all. I'm glad you made it,” she set the tray of cornbread on a mat to cool and pulled him into a hug that he hesitantly reciprocated. “How's job hunting?”

“Going a lot better, I'm going to be interviewed at that nice archaic bijoux place that just opened up. Oh, speaking of,” he handed her the birthday bag, “Happy birthday.” 

“Oh! Dave, oh my god? Thank you! Can I look at it now?”

“It's your birthday.” 

She peered into the bag after moving aside the flimsy paper, “Earings! What a beautiful color. I'll make sure to wear them tomorrow. You're so sweet.”

“It's no problem, ma,” He pulled away slightly when he received a kiss on his cheek. As Angie left momentarily to put the bag in her room, he eyed the other two men in the kitchen besides him. He looked from the German who was keeping an eye on the cooking food on the stove to the Aussie who was washing cups and dishes. When Angie returned, Dave grabbed her by the arm as his voice hastily fell to a whisper, “Ma, who are these men in your kitchen?”

Unlike David, Angie was not shy to introduce them and she turned him around to face them, “Mundee and Emmet. They're Oliver's boyfriends. Be nice.”

“... Plural?”

“Yes. Be nice.” She added sternly before patting his arm for him to let go and took control of the stove again.

David nodded slowly, already feeling more uneasy from their sideways glances.

Under the pressure, he adverted his gaze, “Uh, where's Ollie?”

“Dining room.”

Without hesitation, he tried to walk as nonchalantly as possible to the next room and found his brother setting the table, “Yo, so what did you do with my brother?”

Oliver placed a glass down much harder than he should have that made David flinch, “Okay, I'm sorry I thought that would be more endearing,” he cleared his throat, “Jesus Christ, man. I'm sorry, I just didn't expect this from you... I mean, do you still like girls?”

“Yes, Dave. Just because I'm dating two men,” he emphasized his words to have him wince again, “doesn't mean I'm suddenly not interested in girls.”

“Christ, it was just a question. I haven't seen you in years, you can fucking accuse me for that.”

“Got any other questions then, dipshit?” He continued rounding the table, placing the proper amount of utensils down.

“Yeah, can you forgive me?”

The batter straightened up. His eyebrows knitted as he finally fully looked at his brother.

“Didn't mean to offend you in anyway. Really. I'm sure you get that dumb gay shit often and I don't mean to add onto it. So, can you forgive me? If you can't you can always punch in the face and we'll be even.”

Oliver was amazed. This... _this_ was the middle brother, David, that used to take any given opportunity to punch him until his guts flew out of his mouth?

“Where's the real Dave?”

“Oh haha, ok, I deserve that. Sorry for nearly killing you on multiple occasions.”

“Hey, you got me used to it for my job.”

“Heh! I guess I did, should you be thanking me then?”

“Fuck no... but I'll forgive you for what you said. Only once though. So don't fuck up.”

“Oh, gee man, that takes so much pressure off me.” David gently punched his shoulder. The batter only chuckled and paused in his task to return the gesture.

“Is it okay if I asked how to met those two?”

“Oh, uh, work,” he stated as he finished setting up the table, “Things sort of... happened. Like, really fast. I can't exactly explain it.”

“Right. Also, how does, well, _that_ work?”

“How does what work?”

“You know.” He rolled his shoulders, awkwardly, “Your sex life.”

“Oh that, well--” He stopped at the sight of Mundee peeking into the room.

“Oliver, that is a very personal question. Do not answer that.”

The batter met his threatening glare before turning back to his brother, “... Imagine like a p--”

The Aussie reached out and pulled him into the kitchen without a warning. “Oliver, what did I just say.”

“Hey, that's a good question not a lotta people know, Mun!”

“I know,” he pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, a gesture he had borrowed from Emmet. Somehow, Oliver had noticed sooner than the Aussie had. He never pointed it out though, afraid he might try to stop himself. It was cute. Endearing. “But really, now is not the most appropriate place to talk about any of that.”

The runner blinked out of his trance, “Why not?”

The rifleman gaped at him, “Did you literally just ask that?”

“Yeah?”

After rolling his eyes, Emmet decided to intervene, “it's call privacy, Oliver, I'm not sure if you've heard of such a rare word.”

The runner laughed sarcastically before sticking his tongue out at the German.

“Put that back into your mouth if you don't want it chopped off.”

“I wouldn't mind you biting it instead. Less mess.”

This provoked the German enough to turn around equally shocked as Mundee, “Oliver!”

“What?!” He exclaimed, beaming.

“Look, darl, it just... would be nice if you didn't.”

He was grinning broadly now, “I don't knooowww. I think I can be quiet if there's something in return.”

After a moment of silence, the marksman exhaled in frustration and grabbed his hand, leading him out of the kitchen, “You're bloody impossible. C'mon, we're not doing it in here.”

“ _Ohh?_ ”

“Christ—You know what how about I punch you instead of kiss you?”

“Aaww, babe, don't be like that!” Oliver cooed lovingly.

David looked to the German who seemed greatly unamused, “Are they... always like that?”

“No... but it is often.” Emmet replied with a ghost of a smile.

~~~

After walking out of the bathroom, Oliver stopped in his tracks to see the front door suddenly swing open to reveal his third eldest brother. He had his sandy hair gelled back as well as dawned a nice suit. Of course, he had a gift too. He tried not to let the guilt sink in. “Oh, Anthony, you made it.” Wait. He squinted. “Are you wearing a fucking tux?!”

Anthony blinked, “I drove here straight after work and it's a suit. ”

“At where?? A bridal place?”

“I work at Frontier Engineering, remember?”

“Well, holy shit, I... You know, that I know your boss, right?”

“Oh, I can tell.” He chuckled as they entered the den area, “Sweet guy but, always looks kind of sad.”

“You mean he's not setting fire to like paperwork or something?”

“Haha, I wish I could.”

His brow cocked up, “That wa—uh, nevermind.” Best not to tell him that his boss was a pyromaniac.

“Who are those two guys, Ollie?” He asked quietly as he gestured with his head to his partners who sat at the dining table, thankfully for Oliver, facing away from them. “Your colleagues from that mercenary company?”

“Um, yeah,” the batter coughed, shifting his weight around, “I mean, no, yes, sort of, they're uh... They're my, um... boy...friends..”

“Really now?” He was smiling?

“Yeah...?” Anthony put the back of his hand against Oliver's forehead, “What, what are you doing?”

“I'm worried about where my lil bro went.”

Oliver swatted his hand away, “Shut the fuck up, that's not as endearing as you think it is. You were a freaking bunny when I was a kid and now you're wearing a SUIT, Anton!”

“Ok, you got me there.” Anthony held his arms up in defense, “... So, two of them, huh?”

“Yes. Look, I already got the Goff kicked out and Dave's been asking me really personal stuff that 'I'm not allowed to answer' so just get in line, pal.”

“'Ey.”

“What?”

“I did have a boyfriend once, you know.”

“No...?”

“During my playboy years.”

“No!”

“Yea, man, now I've got a hubby who's getting his medical degree.”

“NO!”

Anthony pushed him by his shoulder, “Dude, chill! Is it that surprising to you!?”

“YES.”

“Okay, okay! Calm yourself. Your boyfriends are staring at you.”

His glare held out for a few more seconds. He crossed his arms as he tried to ignore how warm his face felt, “So, does ma know you got a husband? What's his name?”

“Rob, he's the greatest,” Anthony shared his youngest brother's tick of rubbing the back of his neck when he became anxious, “... I actually never told her, but since you got away with two of them, I might as well tell her now, right?” He gave him a swift pat on the back, “Thanks for the confidence, man. I'll make sure to tell her soon.”

Oliver blinked, “You're... welcome? I think?”

“So, are you going to introduce me to them?”

“What? I... okay?” Still flustered, he walked into the neighboring room and over to his two lovers with Anthony on his heels, “Mundee, Emmet this is Anthony. Anthony... Mundee and Emmet.”

“You're awful at this.” He held out his hand to the Mundee who was nearer to him, “Hi, nice to meet you”

They shook once. The Aussie smiled at the change of pace, “Nice ta meet you.”

Anthony replicated the gesture for Emmet. “Indeed.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise at their accents, “Wow, was not expecting that then again you were always into foreigners, Ollie.”

Steadily, the runner's face became the shade of a red beacon. He kept his head downcast. Anthony's smile waned, “Oh god, did that bring up bad memories?”

“Just kill me.”

“Ollie, I'm sorry! I didn't know!”

“Go fuck yourself.”

The German and rifleman controlled themselves to not directly laugh at Oliver's embarrassing although humorous plight. 

“I'm so sorry.” He tried to wrap his arms around him.

“Don't touch me, you fuck. And you shut up!” He yelled over at David who sat on the other side of the table, laughing hard into his hands.

Oliver gave up. He planted himself in the chair next to Mundee and put his head on the table with his arms folded to hide his face. 

“Aw, luv. C'mon, it's endearing.” The Aussie poked his head.

“Fuck off.”

“Okay, boys, Oliver's had enough.” Angie finally interceded, “I'm glad you got here safe, Anton.”

“Sorry for the tardiness. Happy birthday.”

Oliver grunted.

“Thank you! I'll put it with the other one.”

“Where's your present, Ollie?” Dave inquired curiously.

His grunt turned into a loud groan, while the rifleman tried to comfort him by stroking his hair.

Angie called out, “Honey, it's fine and please lift your head up. Elbows off the table.”

Unwillingly he obeyed, leaning back in his chair and avoiding any eye contact.

“But why...?” David didn't get a chance to finish since Emmet spoke up.

“We've been busy with other things, like apartment and furniture hunting.”

“Oh... Oh so you guys are living together?” he coughed to vainly hide his discomfort,

Emmet didn't seem to acknowledge his fidgeting, which only made him more awkward. “Yes. For months now.” 

“Right, I know that can be pretty stressful.”

“Indeed, it was.” David was inwardly relieved when Emmet turned his attention to the batter, “how are you holding up, mein liebling?”

“Fucking dandy, man,” he moaned, his voice tainted with sarcasm.

~~~

“So is it okay to ask what you two did in the company?” Anthony was the first one to directly speak to them since they started eating and everything had calmed down.

Mundee and Emmet exchanged glances as if having a silent conversation, then the marksman spoke, “I think it'll be fine. I was a sniper.”

David nodded, almost impressed, “An Aussie sniper? Sure you had a lot of practice in the Outback.”

“Give or take.”

“Did you hunt?”

He mulled over the question for a bit, “A bit, coyotes, foxes, wallabies, birds, all that stuff.”

Emmet's interest piqued at the 'b' word, “You never told me that.”

“I didn't hunt pigeons, mate, I don't remember what kind but I know magpies were one of them. Bloody bastards.”

“You still hunted birds.”

“S'all in the past, luv.”

“Oh, har har.”

Oliver nearly choked on his broccoli from laughing. 

Angie straightened her back, looking worriedly at her son, “Oliver, baby, breath.”

He managed to swallow, breathlessly giggling, “I'm good...!”

“What about you, Emmet?”

“Field medic,” he stated bluntly.

Anthony's hazel blue eyes lit up, “Really? What was it like?” 

“Stressful as you can imagine, war medics are a prime target, but I had reliable teammates... some more than others.”

“... Are you talking about me?” Their lover leaned over to look down the table at his lover. He pointed his fork at him, “Don't lie, I did protect you.”

“Yes, you did, and getting yourself killed in the process.”

“But I protected you. Do I not get brownie points for dying for you?”

Emmet was unable to restrain his smile, “You do.”

“So there, you can't be complaining that I didn't do that, alright?”

“I thought always you did that to get his attention,” Mundee intervened with a smirk, causing the German to quickly conceal his abrupt laughter.

“Look, I can be selfless when I want to be, you know. And you DO know. You should still be thanking me for killing that French bastard for you when you were so busy making out with my face—”

“That's enough. Eat your peas.”

“But--”

“Anyway,” the German continued, happily cutting him off, “It was also a wonderful opportunity for me to continue my pursuit of science.”

“What sort of science?” Anthony inquired with genuine curiosity.

“Oh, simply what the human body is capable of, which is quite a lot actually. You know that it takes—ow!” He looked up at the Aussie beside him who eyed him warily, silently telling him to stop talking.

The two brothers glanced at their mother with deep concern, who simply smiled nonchalantly then at Oliver, who merely shrugged and continued eating. Anthony cleared his throat, undecided on what to do, which forced David to press on, “I'm amazed your license didn't get revoked after that.”

Unexpectedly for the boys, he giggled but it wasn't lighthearted. It sounded more sinister and evil. To hear it made Oliver and Mundee wince in their seats.

The marksman was glaring at him now, “Emmet don't scare them and answer the question.”

“I thought that was enough as an answer.”

The runner gazed back at his brothers, “Just be glad you didn't have to go through what he did to us.”

“Oh, but I can elaborate, if you'd like to hear about it.”

“No one encourage him. Darl, we're eating. Maybe later.”

It was odd to see Emmet swing back to his old self, then again he was scarily too good at changing his mood on a dime. It was mostly playful though, for his standards. It was strangely refreshing. The two hoped it meant he was becoming more comfortable with himself again.

And for Oliver, he inwardly grinned at his brothers' growing discomfort at his German boyfriend.

~~~

Finally, it was the end of the small party and the three men, with Oliver's persuasion, were the first to leave.

“Bye, ma! Happy Birthday, again.”

“Be safe, fellas!” Angie waved as they continued down the hall.

“We will!”

When they reached the elevators, Oliver exhaled loudly, “That was a mess. I was a mess. Ugh, that was awful.”

The Aussie half smiled in amusement, “Don't worry about it, Ollie. With brothers, I don't think it can be helped.”

The Bostonian nearly gave himself whip lash from jerking his head around to face him. At first, he was confused before recalling his mistake, Mundee froze, “Oliver! I meant Oliver! I'm so sorry, it slipped!” 

“... Say Ollie again.” The marksman flinched. Wait, that wasn't a threat.

“Uh... Ollie?” Of fucking course, he could make his dumb nickname sound beautiful just from the accent alone. He looked over at Emmet, who was equally as confused, “now you.”

“Ollie...?” He felt his heart actually skip.

He threw his hands up, “Un-freaking-believable. You gotta be kidding me!”

The two men looked at each other, “Mundee, did you understand what just happened?”

“I don't have a clue.”

“It's your accents, fellas! I don't know how but either you can make things sound really dumb or just... really, really freaking good.” He glared at their growing highly amused smiles. The batter crossed his arms, “Stop that.”

“Did you really think we didn't know this already?” Emmet remarked slyly.

The elevator dinged and opened its door while the Bostonian responded with nothing. Quickly, he stepped into the small room after his lovers and kept his distance in silent anger.

“For once, he's quiet.” The Aussie cooed.

“I thought you were okay with talking about our sex lives, _Ollie_.”

They watched a chill course through his body. He looked ready to shout at them but he held still. They trip home was in peaceful silence.

~~~

Mundee ended up staring at the ceiling, after he finally gave up on trying to sleep. He had no idea what time it was and he didn't feel tired. This didn't happen often, but it was enough for him to be annoyed whenever it did. He even had a routine whenever a strange insomnia would hit. For what felt like thirty minutes to an hour, he'd let his eyes focus on the ceiling. His eyes would adjust to the darkness enough to see the specks of paint. Eventually, he'd look to his left to study his two lovers sleeping and watch their breathing. Oliver always seemed to be breathing fast even as he dreamed while Emmet's was slow and steady. Occasionally, he'd hear the batter talk in his sleep. It's usually incoherent mumbles but sometimes he'd string odd words together like 'don't go stapler man that trash can is fucked up'. There were even times that he would whisper to him and actually hold a conversation with him in his sleeping state until Mundee fell asleep. Seeing this time that Oliver's words were inaudible, he didn't try to talk to him.

If all else failed, he got up and went up to the roof of the complex. On the fourth night they slept here, Mundee wandered around the apartment complex, which he will not admit, was actually complicated and big enough for him to get lost. He found the stairs up to the roof on accident and it wasn't locked so he decided to venture a little longer. It felt wonderful to see the stars again. It reminded of him of when he used to stargaze on top of his camper. It was like an opening for him to fully relax. So he stared up at them until he grew tired. He made a mental note to come back whenever insomnia hit as well as remember the way when he found a shortcut.

Carefully, he removed his side of blankets and got up. Feeling his way, he tiptoed his way out of the room and through the den until he felt the front door. He glided his hand around the right side until he found a nail and grabbed the key. As quietly as he could, he unlocked the door and hung the key back up. His sleepwear never had pockets to keep it in so he left the door ajar. Momentarily, he squinted from the bright ceiling lights as he walked through the halls, until he found his marker, a vase, and turned the left corner. He eventually found the stairway and climbed up two flights before he faced two doors. He took the right and was hit by a cold wind. Sure, it was neat that one part of the apartment have rooms that lead outside to have a nice view. That's fine unless you were unprepared for the cold. Mundee muttered multiple profanities under his breath as he pushed through, rubbing his arms. He was nearly there anyway. He won't have to endure it for long. For a moment, he could have sworn he heard the stairwell door creak. Immediately, he pushed that thought aside. It's probably midnight, who else would be up other than him? Hell, who would be outside in this cold air? 

He reached the other side and pulled the stairwell door open. Here we go. He traversed up the stairs until he reached one last door that was labeled 'roof'. He tested the knob. Thankfully, it wasn't locked. He released breath he was unaware that he was holding and pushed the door open.

On instinct, he looked up. The stars shined above him, twinkling, glittering. He was pretty sure that one was a planet, maybe Jupiter. He couldn't tell what color it was from here. Fuck, it's colder up here than it was floors downward, why didn't he bring a robe? Then a noise jostled him out of his thoughts. A hoot. His eyes widen as he stared in front of him. On the railing sat a small silvery owl staring at him with giant glowing yellow eyes.

“Aren't you a beaut,” he whispered breathlessly. Agonizingly, slowly, he inched forward. Did owls sense anxiety? It was difficult to maintain his pounding heart, hoping that the avian won't fly away so soon.

The owl didn't seem to mind his presence, although it did watch him with a keen eye. It was a while before he was inches away from the railing. The owl only shuffled and ruffled its feathers. 

“You're used to humans, ain't ya? I'm sure you're banded too.” He studied the bird for a moment, his eyes searching for a marker but it was too dark to find one. He shifted and put his arms on the edge, “Hope you don't mind me being here. I'll keep our distance the way it is, if you like.”

The rifleman gazed out at the city. So huge yet claustrophobic. He had realized how much he had grown used to it yet not at all. The locals will always give him funny looks whenever he opened his mouth and get asked questions about where he was from, if he was single, why he was here. A lot of personal questions he didn't like answering. No one cared in New Mexico. They were either too high on sewage radiation or simply shrugged it off. People knew them. They either feared, hated, or didn't care about them. He was basically a tourist here. He liked it better in New Mexico.

He glanced over and sighed with relief that the owl still hung around.

“Do you miss the forest, lil beaut?” He interpreted that silence as a somewhat response, “I hear ya. I don't miss Oz, but I sure as hell miss that Mexico state. I feel like a sort of misfit here. I'm sure you do too. Sweet Angie keeps saying that I'll get used to this. I have yet I really haven't. It's too unfamiliar to me, you know?” The predator rotated its head to face him. Its golden eyes planted on his being. His chest tightened. “But you got used to it, didn't you? You adapted. I'm sure you eat some kind of rodent in some alleyway. You survive well. You look well fed. I'm sure I can do that too... Adapt, I mean, not eat rats.”

Cackling made him jump nearly out of his skin. He whirled about to see Emmet in a robe beside him.

He put a hand onto his chest, panting “Darl, don't... don't do that...!”

“Es tut mir leid, mein Schatz. Who's your friend?”

“Oh... uh... not sure what she is.”

“Saw-whet Owl.” He stated matter of factly, “adorable tiny creatures. She seems to like you.”

Mundee sighed, “Maybe, I think she's more tolerating me.”

“Hmm,” he felt his hand brush by his lower back and being placed on his hip, “Now, why are you up here so late?”

“It's become a, uh, routine, I guess. It's on and off but I haven't been able to sleep. Maybe it's the change.”

“No nightmares?”

“Nah, I don't dream. I just can't seem to keep my eyes closed.”

“I see. So, you come up here, to the highest point and look down at everyone else?”

He knew what he was hinting at and he merely rolled his eyes, “I ain't shooting anyone, Emmet. I look at the sky too... I come up here to mostly look up there.”

He took a moment to lift his head up to take the sky's beauty in again, then look beside him at his lover to see him doing the same before returning his gaze upwards. Emmet's other arm wrapped around his waist to meet with his other hand, “You think you're a misfit here. Why haven't you told us you felt that way?”

“It never bothered me too much--” He felt him squeeze his middle. He let out a small giggle, “Ok maybe it did enough for me to talk to an owl about it. I didn't want to break our Ollie's heart about it. I don't want all us to be, you know, away from a place we called home. Oliver loves it here. I can adapt. Slowly but I can adapt.”

“Gut, I'm glad mein Engelchen.”

“That's a new one... Sounds nice. What's it mean?”

“... My angel.”

His heart fluttered while his breathing hiccuped, “I'm...'M not an angel, luv, but I appreciate it... Would you call Oliver that?”

“Oh Gott, no.” Mundee vainly withheld his laughter. Emmet paused to briefly join him. “Only on special occasions, like when he shuts up deliberately.”

“That'll be the day.”

“How long do you usually stay up here?”

“Only for a lil bit.” He smirked, “You're cold aren't you?”

“Yes.”

“I can tell, you got a lot closer to me. Not that I mind.” Emmet grunted as Mundee pecked his temple, then his cheek, his nose, the corner of his lips... 

“Mundee.” Good, he was smiling.

“Don't you think this is romantic, darl? Alone, above the world, at night.” His hand found its way to the side his face, his thumb stroking his lips. “Next an owl.”

The German giggled at that, “Owls do not symbolize romance, Mundee.”

“Maybe not, but they do symbolize intelligence. I guess I should've expected to you follow me. I've been a fool to think you wouldn't catch on, huh?”

Under his palm, he could feel his partner's cheeks grow warm. “Indeed.”

“... Can I kiss you?”

Instead of verbally answer, Emmet leaned in and kissed him to which he immediately returned. He let the German pull him closer, his hand gliding up and down Mundee's back just to have him shiver. Feeling his soft lips gently push against his own never ceased to bring him at ease. The sweet kiss ended sooner than the rifleman would have liked but he knew the field medic wished to go back to bed.

“We can go now, luv. Vielen Danke.”

By Emmet's curt chortle, he figured he pronounced the words wrong. He merely shrugged it off. He had grown used to being criticized or laughed at for his mispronunciation of his lover's tongue. Before following him down the stairs, Mundee glanced back towards the owl to see it had vanished silently into the night. A frown tugged at his lips. Maybe he'll see it again another night.


	9. Tears

Emmet's body jerked in his slumber, his closed eyes twitching. A shaky breathe escaped as a tingle rolled down his spine. He flinched once more and his eyes popped open, feeling wide awake. Immediately, he took inventory on his surroundings. He was in bed. His lovers were beside him. His arm was still attached but incredibly numb due to being under his youngest partner. In fact, he noticed two familiar eyes staring back at him. The realization that he was merely dreaming gave him ease as his muscles relaxed.

“You ok?” Worry coated his speech.

“Ja, I am fine. Ah, my arm has lost it's nerves.”

“Oh.” He shifted and Emmet removed his limb from under him. “Sorry.”

“It's alright.” The German began gently moving his arm to bump blood back through his veins, “What are you doing up so late?”

“Uh... thinking.”

“... Just thinking?”

“Yea, I mean... it all happened so fast. I... you know, I never thought this would happen.”

He gazed at him with an eyebrow quirked up, “What do you mean?”

“Well...” He gave a small giggle, “Remember when I thought I was straight?”

“Definitely,” a deeper voice replied next to his ear, which nearly made him jump out of the bed.

“Jesus, Mun, you scared the shit out of me.”

“'M sorry...”

“Why're awake? Did I do that?”

“No, been awake. Can't sleep.”

“Sorry bout that.”

The Aussie only hummed then proceeded to nuzzle into his neck.

“... I've just been thinking about you know, how I was, I guess. Then you two had to intervene, didn't you? Get me so friggen confused about everything. I can't believe I was that close to just pushing it aside, because I thought I was going crazy.... I'm... really glad I didn't though. I'd miss out on so much.”

He felt Mundee's smile, “Emmet, I think our Oliver has fallen ill.”

“Yes, we should get him to the ER immediately.” The German teased.

“Oi, I—!”

Their lips pressing against his cheeks caused him to fall into silence.

“That is entirely too sweet of you to say, mein Schatz... I did think I was becoming an idiot for falling for someone like that.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” His partners replied roughly in unison.

“You lived in a van, never talking to anyone while you were high on caffeine, raving on how you could beat everyone's ass and immediately got yours horribly kicked; it wasn't exactly the best first impressions I've seen.”

His eyebrows knitted as Oliver searched his memory, “... Why don't I remember that?”

“You were badly knocked out by Solider.”

“I was knocked out??”

“Ja, I had to take you in just in case you woke up with a migraine. You did. I'm not surprised you don't remember, you had a concussion,” Emmet apprised.

Oliver blinked wildly as he eyed down his partner, unable to believe the information. “How long did I stay?”

“Oh, few weeks. Do you not recall that either?”

“... No, no I sort of remember. I always woke up confused to why I was there.”

“I'm not surprised... You did come by my lab quite often even before you were interested in me.”

“C'mon, man, I... I blame Solly and Pyro for most of those incidents. Only a few were actually my fault.”

“Sure, mein liebling.” He patted his hair only to earn a disgruntled face.

“Speaking of incidents, I can still recall when you blurted out how hot my voice was,” the marksman grinned at the memory. The batter's absolutely shocked and flushed face was burned into his mind like a brand.

“Whyyy do you remember that?”

“It was adorable! You were just standing there blubbering unable to save yourself. I feel bad that I didn't just kiss you right there.”

“We weren't even in a relationship at that point...!” The runner groaned in self pity. “It was freaking embarrassing.”

The German giggled, “You know, now that I think about it, he did blurt out something to me as well, prior to being in a relationship.”

Oliver gave the field medic a stern glare, “Emmet. No.”

“Why not?”

Excited, Mundee propped himself up with his elbow, “Oh my god, tell me, I need to know.”

“I will kick your ass outta this apartment.” The Bostonian growled.

His hand enveloped the batter's mouth, “Oliver, shut up, I wanna hear this... Lick my hand all you want, darl, I'm not moving it.” 

Ignoring Oliver's protests, Emmet continued, “Let me see... It was in my infirmary, it was around the time you kept visiting me every day with nothing wrong. I was so confused of why you kept pestering me like that... Ahh, ja, I was cleaning up my desk and then out of no where he said, 'holy shit you are stacked'. I turned to him quizzical, 'excuse me?'. He stuttered his speech for a moment before saying 'you're very muscular'. 'I know what stacked mean, Herr Scout, why did you say that?'. You should have seen how badly he was squirming, he then said, 'Look I wasn't staring at your arms, alright? They just caught my attention'.”

The Aussie laughed so hard he began coughing into his arm while Oliver pouted.

“Yea, yea laugh it up. Poke fun at the old Scout.”

Emmet smiled, “Why are you still embarrassed about that?”

“Because it WAS embarrassing! All of that was meant to STAY in my head!”

After slowly stopping his laughter, the marksman responded, breathlessly, “Oliver, you know you saved me a lot of trouble of self doubt if you didn't say that.”

His pout vanished, “Heh... I guess so, you... You were awful at proposing a relationship, though.”

“Hey, I _tried_. I was holding you hand for the first time. All that was kind of unfamiliar to me. I haven't dated in two decade.”

“Yup, saying 'I want you' was definitely s--”

“Oi! The rest of the sentence was 'I want you to be my lover'. I just couldn't get the rest out.”

“It still worked, man.”

“Remember when we just kept doing this,” the rifleman took his hand and gently stroked his fingers along his.

The memory still felt so fresh for the two of them. It's like they could smell the desert air again for his proposal happened outside the base. Their faces flushed and their tongues stuttering. Mundee had taken his hand to lead him out to confess, but it backfired fantastically for it was the only thing they could concentrate on. The Bostonian put on his lopsided smile, “Yeah... we had no fucking idea what to do.”

“That is adorable,” Emmet exhaled, “I don't think you've ever told me this. You sure did surprise me when you still held interest in me... enough to ask to be your partner.”

“We weren't just gonna forget about you, Emmet.” Mundee found his hand and squeezed it, “We wanted you to be part of this. We still want you to be part of this.”

“Yea, man, I mean. Hell, it was confusin' at the time and there was a lot of conflicting internal struggle with like the both of tryin' to figure this out... Honestly, Emmet, you're a great part of this team, you know?”

“It's true. I can easily remember being terrified of you saying no. I think that was the first time I ever saw you tremble like that that wasn't from caffeine, Ollie.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Nah, I can't.”

“To be honest,” the German swallowed after a few moments to collect himself from all the unexpected praise, “I did not think a relationship like this would work out. I thought we were too different from one another. I was wrong. Maybe, I was worrying too much. I don't regret accepting the proposal. I am glad I am here with you.”

The batter pecked his cheek, “Good, cause now you're stuck with us.”

“Wunderbar.”

After a while of pure silence, Oliver prodded the field medic with a question, “... Do you remember when we first kissed?”

“Mein Gott, that was so awkward.” the German patted his head, “You were trying a little too hard, Oliver.”

The batter paused, biting his lip, “I was eager, okay?”

“Oh yes, colliding yourself into the wall, then onto the floor, try to walk it off without me having to look at you and then say you cut your lip so I could get close to you was very eager.”

“... Ah, okay, it wasn't the smoothest thing I've done, but it worked.”

Emmet rolled his eyes, letting him stroke his ego, “You were just as eager as Mundee was.”

At that, the marksman looked over at him with a wary stare, “... Emmet.”

“Ja?”

“No.”

“Now, you're the embarrassed one?”

“Not embarrassed! Just...”

“Embarrassed?” The Bostonian finished for him with his eyes still on Emmet. “Give me the details, man.”

“Has he never told you?”

“Well, he has but I wanna hear aaaaall of it. All he said to me the next morning is that you two kissed. Then if I had a problem with that, I said no. Then he went onto how much you were amazing at kissing and had really soft lips. It was adorable. I tried to get him to say more but he wouldn't. So, if you could tell me everything, that'd be great.”

The field medic looked from the batter to the rifleman, who scowled at him, then back to Oliver, “It was probably because he was too drunk to remember.”

“I was not drunk!” He replied with celerity, “Tipsy. There's a difference. It takes three beers to actually get me drunk and you know that! I'll also remind you that you were tipsy too.”

Emmet shook his head, smiling happily, “Yes, yes, I was tipsy. We were at his van, sitting on the edge of his bed, I believe. This was after I sent you to bed with painkillers after having a shot of vodka, Oliver.”

“Gee, thanks for reminding me.”

“Ja, ja,” the German patted his hand and continued, “He very much persuaded me to join him to drink there instead of with our comrades. I didn't know exactly what he wanted at first and he wouldn't give me a direct answer. He couldn't be that drunk, I had thought. We weren't exactly talking much either but the silence was at least comfortable until I notice him inching towards me.

“Are you feeling alright, Herr Sniper?” Medic inquired rather concerned.

Sniper shook his head, frantically, “'M fine, mate, this stuff is nothing to me.”

“I see.” He sighed as he watched him scoot over a bit more, “Herr Sniper, what are you up to?” 

He watched his teammates face heat up under the question. Guilty. “I just... well... I...”

“Please do not do something you will regret.”

“Why would I regret kissin' you?” Medic's breathing hitched. “You're part of this relationship. Do you not want to?”

He eyed him up and down, unsure of how to answer. He took a moment to compose himself, “I do, really but you're drunk.”

“Mate, I am not drunk, how many times do I gotta say that? Do you hear me slurring my words?”

“No, but your accent has definitely gotten heavier.”

“That's just the beer in your system. I'm fine.”

“Sure,” Medic mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“You didn't answer my question.”

“Which question?”

“Why would I regret kissing you?

“There...” He huff in exasperation, “Ich weiss nicht. I don't know what is going on in that head of yours. Why do you want to kiss me?”

Sniper shifted about with his hands rubbing together, “I'm just thinking about how your lips feel... taste, that such.”

Medic felt his face and neck getting warmer by the second. This dummkopf...

“That's a cute shade on ya.” the rifleman was smiling rather lovingly that caught the doctor off guard. “Can I kiss you?”

He's actually asking for his permission? Medic gulped again. He paused, examining his teammate one more time. No hiccuping, his eyes weren't glazing over, and he certainly didn't reek of alcohol. He decided to give up, “You can kiss me.”

There was no hesitation. Sniper claimed his lips the moment after he gave his permission. He was not so surprised to feel his lips so chapped and the ruggedness of his chin and cheeks. He was amused by his eagerness though. So that was why he wanted him alone? He noticed the rifleman's lips lined with traces of alcohol that he wanted to lick off. He was sure the inside of his mouth would taste just as nice—He internally shook himself, too far, he warned. He didn't want to turn this gentle kiss into something more intimate since they were both buzzed from the liquor. Yet he didn't stop Sniper from closing any space between them and putting his arms around him. At the moment, Medic couldn't seem to focus on anything but his lips pushing on his. He became so rapt up of his touch that when he pulled away he had leaned forward again to try and catch it again but he quickly halted. He straightened his posture, hoping that wasn't too obvious. Immediately after coming out of his trance, he realized how close together they had become, how gingerly he was being held in Sniper's arms. His personal space was being invaded, yet he could not shove the rifleman away.

“I'm sorry was that too much?”

Medic stuttered in disbelief. How long had this lasted? Part of him didn't care while the other wanted to leave. Somehow the former was winning out for him to question how much he originally drank. He was more professional than that to just melt over one someone like a-- he stopped himself. He found his gaze drifting away from his eyes and onto his mouth, then his stumble that reached down to his neck. He could see a strong pulsing blood vein.

“Doc?”

His gaze snapped back to meet his teammate's. Right, he had to answer, yet he was totally distracted by the prior details he finally acknowledged. He desired—no—needed to taste lips, his tongue, feel the stubble on his skin as he kissed his neck. He wondered what noises he would make. He was silent for too long.  
“It wasn't enough.” He didn't give his teammate time to process his words as he pulled him by the front of his shirt to claim what was his. 

Although, the kiss at first was innocent, just another taste. A chance for him to lick at his lips until they opened. It rapidly turned passionate with their tongues homing in on each other's mouths. None cared how they ended up lying on the bed with their limbs tangled in each other. At the time, it didn't matter who began that and as time passed it still didn't. His shirt was slowly unbuttoning and he felt cold calloused hands on his chest that glided to his lower back that sent shivers down his spine. Without thinking, Medic reciprocate by stuffing his hands up the man's shirt, stroking his sensitive sides that the man above him gave drawn out moan.

Eventually, they managed to break from one another to breath. Through dazed eyes, he watch Sniper expression drastically change, his mouth looked to be moving.

He blinked a few times, as if he had woken up from a deep sleep, “... Was?”

“Are we taking this too far?”

“For our first kiss?”

“Yea?”

“... Well, it's not as awkward as I thought it would be. You're always so shy.”

His lips tightened into a line, “I'm not _always_ shy, mate.”

“I think I know that already,” Medic sat up and began buttoning up his blouse before he paused when he saw the rifleman's stare. The doctor smirked, “When I'm done are you going to undo my work just so you can touch me again? Should I just leave it this way?”

Groaning from embarrassment, the rifleman covered his flushed face with his hands, “C'mon, doc...”

Medic giggled and returned to his task without another word. The van held still for a while until a thought provoked him to ask, “Are you going to tell Scout? Do you think he'll be jealous that we kissed?”

Sniper removed his hands and awkwardly sat up, “I'm not sure. He never says anything like that.”

“And if he does, we can all talk about it.”

“Right, you're right.”

“And when I tried to leave, Mundee desperately tried to pull me back because he said he hasn't seen me around in a while. You're so clingy when your tipsy, Süsser,” Emmet teased, grinning.

“I wasn't being clingy...” The Aussie grumbled into his pillow.

“No, let me think, what was it you said? 'The only thing I'm drunk off right now is that helluva kiss'.” He paused to listen to the runner's uncontrollable laughter. “No more drinking, just talking. He continued to convince me and I stayed with him until the sun could be seen on the horizon. Then I slapped him for making me stay up like that.”

“Yup, I can still feel it.”

“Don't be such a baby, I've slapped you harder than that.”

The marksman lifted his head up, “That was the first time you slapped me! I was so confused because you sounded mad but you didn't look angry. It was before I figured you out so it stung more. The other times were for my stupidity.”

“I'm glad you know that was the case.”

“You made me know. Lectured me in German 'n everythin'.”

Emmet ruffled his hair, “... Recalling it now, that indeed was a _helluva_ kiss...” 

“Can always recreate it, darl,” Mundee egged, feeling his heart skipping.

“Mmm, maybe.”

“... Can I watch?” Oliver broke out suddenly, his eyes had grown huge with interest, “I'll be totally quiet. You won't even know that I'd be in the room but seriously can I watch?"

The two exchanged amused glances. The German rolled his eyes, “Only if you're quiet.”

“Yessssss.”

“Your turn.”

“What?” The two said almost in unison after a short pause.

“I told my story, you never told me how you two first kissed.”

The Bostonian immediately propped himself up, with a sly smirk, “It wasn't as steamy as yours, but it was still pretty nice. I honestly kind of wanted to get the awkwardness over with so I came up with a great plan.”

“He was going to take me out to a place neither of us have been to and make me drive there,” the rifleman intervened briefly, “Okay, you can go on now.”

“Dude, we lived in the middle of nowhere, New Mexico. I didn't exactly have brochures to freaking fancy ass restaurants. And you know I don't have a license.”

“Just keep going.”

“Aaannyway. The place was actually... okay, we didn't get food poisoning from it. Or, you know, you would know. So! When we got back, still sitting and stuff

“Did you have a good time?” Scout prodded, hiding the concern out of his voice.

“Course, but pick a better restaurant next time.”

“Well, duh.” Sniper was looking at him. Yes, now seemed like the right time to make his move. He leaned over to his side of the vehicle with his lips puckered.

Confused, he put a hand firmly onto his forehead to keep him in place, “What are you doing, ya mongrel?”

The batter pouted in disappointment, “I'm trying to kiss ya, man, what does it look like?”

“Kiss me?”

“Yeah, kiss you. Is that a hard concept for you?”

“N-no.”

“Then why are you stopping me?”

He watched the blush creep onto his neck as he refused to answer.

“You've been obviously eyein' my sexy lips forever, man. What's stopping you?”

Finally, he removed his hand from the batter's face and crossed his arms, “I don't know.”

“You nervous?”

“Maybe...? I haven't kissed anyone in a long time.”

A light bulb illuminated in his mind, “Soooo, you're outta practice?”

“I guess so.”

“Well, lucky for you, you got me. And in my class I rather show than tell.”

Sniper let out an exaggerated yet amused huff, “Alright, fine.”

He was about to open the door before the runner stopped him, “Nuh uh uh, in here.”

“What? In here? Scout, that's going to be awkward and uncomfortable. What are you going to do? Sit on my lap?” By the cheeky grin on his lover's face, he must have hit the target. His face steadily took on a red hue.

“Hey, man, don't get too excited.”

“You shut the fuck up.”

The next thing he knew the batter was inches away from his face and had placed himself on his lap, smiling his famous lopsided smile. He glowered at his looming presence.

“Don't give me that, you love it.” Sniper just grunted. “Just follow my lead, Snipes.”

The moment he planted his lips on the rifleman's, rather gingerly, he didn't notice the hiccup in his breathing before eventually although awkwardly returning the gesture. The stubble felt odd and ticklish against his sensitive skin, but he pushed through to ignore it and focus on his lips. They felt... really nice actually, he was afraid his lips wouldn't be as kissable as he thought. He was glad he was wrong.

He was able to bring himself away from him. He watched the marksman slowly opened and blink his eyelids, seemingly dazed. Sniper stared at him over his aviators. The batter smiled at his boyfriend's adorable nonplussed face, “See? That wasn't so bad, was it?” 

He shook his head slightly, whispering, “No, not at all...” 

Scout quickly fought his way out of a chill. His face felt it was burning off, “Fffuck, don't do that.” 

He hated that small sly smirk. He hated that took any opportunity of the day to lower his voice and surprise him. He hated this habit and _totally_ did not revel in it in the slightest, “Can't stand it, can yo—mm.” 

Abruptly his lips caressed his rather forcefully and press his chest onto his, to close any more space between them. He felt the body under him lax and how less stiff his returning advances became. He pulled himself away again, glaring into his eyes. His sudden gesture knocked his glasses askew that they sat crooked on his nose. Fuck, there was something so cute about how the way he looked right now. “Just.. shut up, man.” 

“I can't thank you?”

“For... what? Kissing you? That's a stupid thing to—” He paused, “I take that back, you should be grateful to have my sexy lips kiss you.”

Sniper snorted, “I meant for what you did, the date and all, but I guess I can thank you for the lesson too.”

“Well, duh.”

“Right, can we get out now?” He didn't move. “Scout.”

“... Well, it's late and--”

“You're not sleeping with me.”

“I wasn't going to ask that, you shithead!” He couldn't even imagine doing that so soon or how it would even work. He shook out of his thoughts; he'll linger on that more later. “I just wanted a goodnight kiss.”

“Were those two not enough?”

“No.”

“Alright, ankle biter,” he complied through a laugh. Scout only felt his wonderful lips for a moment before they pulled away.

“That was too short.”

“It's a goodnight kiss, Scout, not an actual kiss.”

Agitated, the batter huffed, “Fine, whatever. Let's just go.”

“Nah, not yet.”

“What do you...?”

The rifleman embraced him. He was warm... really warm, like he could easily sleep on top of him. With his ear to his neck, he could hear his soothing heartbeat. He felt completely secure in his arms that he could feel his eyes closing.

“Scout?”

“Mm?”

Sniper chuckled at how sleepy he sounded.

“Thank you.”

“Mmhm...”

There was a pause. He could hear that his heart was pounding a little faster than before. “What's up...?”

“Tryin' to figure out if it's the right time to say this.”

He eyes popped open, “S-say what?”

“Well, we've just been, you know, together for a kind of a while now, so... I love you.”

“You totally turned the tables on me with that. Then again, back then I didn't think I'd have the guts to say that out loud.” Oliver rubbed his neck as he recollected.

“Mm, yea, _but_ ,” Mundee poked his side, “You can't just glaze over the part where you just melted into me and wouldn't let go and I had to walk to back to the base.” 

Emmet cackled sleepily at that. “Mein Gott, that's adorable...!”

The runner shifted his shoulder as the memory played through his head, “I... I was happy, alright?”

“Oh, that was so hard to tell,” the Aussie yawned widely, blinking a few times. “What time is it?”

The field medic craned his neck back and squinted at the small clock on the bedside, “One-forty.”

“Christ, really?” The batter didn't feel tired and he honestly wanted to reminisce more with his lovers.

“We should get some shut-eye.”

“Ja. Guten Nacht, you two.”

“Night, luv.”

“Night,” Oliver added hesitantly. What was he supposed to do now? He wasn't sure how he could fall asleep. He looked at the sleeping individuals on either side of him. They appeared so peaceful and ready to be kissed, but he decided against that. He will definitely do that in the morning. 

His mind would not stay quiet and continued to resurface wonderful memories that he wanted to share, but if he couldn't he might as well do it with himself. Clear as day, he could remember having his first Ubercharge, the three of them going on their first date together, having anything awkward fly away after the first year of being together, celebrating their anniversary with having some fun, and accidentally coming out to the rest of the team to be greeted with acceptance. They have come so far since then. He didn't want this to end and he was sure they didn't either. 

He stared at his dominant hand through half lidded eyes until he was unable to fight the urge to sleep.

~~~

A meaty aroma enveloped the kitchen, making it nearly impossible for anyone to not drool. Emmet stood in front of the stove, watching over the pans that were cooking eggs and bacon. Occasionally, he would poke at the eggs with a spatula.

“Archimedes, could you hand me that fork, bitte?”

With a light coo, the pigeon trotted over to the dishtowel and nudged the utensil over to the stove.

“Danke schön, mein fruend,” after giving his bird a single breast stroke with his finger, he grabbed the fork and turned over the bacon strips.

The door to the bedroom opened lazily, revealing a sleepy runner in boxers. The German giggled mostly to himself, his eyes gazing back to his task, “Guten Morgen. The bed has styled your hair, I see.”

A low grumble was his return greeting. Soon he heard footsteps trudging closer and saw his lover's arms wrap around his middle. His head nuzzled into the back of his neck.

“Please refrain from falling sleep on my person, I can't care for you while cooking.”

Another grunt. For once, the obnoxious little man was quiet and let him work in peace. However, this only lasted for a few minutes, when the runner shifted his arms lower to hand around his waist and occasionally kiss his neck. The field medic did not visually acknowledge the advances as he shuffled one of the many pans.

Until he felt fingers underneath his trousers, his posture straightened, cluing in to want his lover was doing, “Oliver. I need those on my person.”

Obediently, the batter rested his hands back onto his hips which over time crawled under his shirt. Emmet rolled his eyes, “Oliver, please, I have a stove in front of me.”

Unexpectedly, there wasn't a witty comeback from him, leaving the German concerned. Would he not be awake by now? His hands that stroked at his ribs and belly and the kisses on his neck progressed were becoming distracting. Finally, he placed the fork down and spun around to face Oliver. His eyes must have been closed for he blinked feverishly at his unanticipated action. A small whine rose from him and nuzzled his head onto his shoulder. Obviously, the runner was not coherent.

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. The field medic returned the embrace shortly after teasing his sides, earning him a shiver from his partner. 

“Mein Oliver?” He felt his breathing hitch. “If you are that tired, go back to bed.”

The young man grunted, his head shifted. His lips pecked his jawbone, eventually making a path to his mouth.

“I am not carrying you either.” Emmet cut their kiss short by placing his hands on his face, forcing the stubborn advances to a halt. “Go on, wake our Mundee up or go back to sleep. Everything will be ready soon.”

After another grunt, the Bostonian managed to break himself away from his body heat and trudge back into the bedroom. Unable to shake his weariness away, he crawled under the covers and let the dark surround him for a few moments. It wasn't long until he recalled the other individual nearby who slept with a hint of a snore. Squinting and desiring to not face the light again, he felt his way until he touched his partner's chest, no, back? … Nope, chest, that was a nipple.

Reacting on his weary impulse, he scooted closer and kissed a pathway from his stomach to his neck. At first, the body beside him didn't respond until he had reach his collarbone. A groan emanated from the lankier individual as his hand felt and found the person giving these unwarranted kisses.

“Oliver...?” He hoarsely mumbled.

Eventually, the batter's head poked out from the covers, unsuspectingly close to the rifleman's. He then chuckled at the half lidded, incoherent Oliver, who stared at him distantly. Resuming back to kissing his lover, he skipped the neck entirely and struck for his mouth. He was so warm and... and...

Any distance between them closed while their lips refused to leave each other's homes. After a while, the marksman tried his best to talk now that he was fully awake even though the batter insisted on shutting his mouth with his own.

“Oliver. I'm up now. You can stop.” He paused for a bit to return the persistent kisses, “Oliver, we can finish this later, I want to get up.”

The Bostonian mumbled something inaudible and did not bother repeating when prodded. He had obeyed his wishes but refused to release him by wrapping his legs around his waist.

“... I can work with this,” The marksman sat up while holding the determined young man close to him. “You know what you remind me as of now? You're acting like a little koala and you're just as annoying and absurdly cute as one of 'em too.”

Mundee was sure his partner could cling to him on his own but he didn't want to chance him falling asleep then proceed falling onto the ground. He kept one hand on his back and the other on his posterior as he placed his bare feet on the carpet. Exiting the room while carrying a light baby man was not difficult, however, he knew getting him to let go was going to be troublesome. It took the field medic two glances before recognizing what had appeared out of the room, his laughter came out too fast to restrain.

“Pesky little bugger, isn't he?” Emmet didn't need to mock the thick Aussie accent to tease his partner.

Mundee smirked, “An obnoxious brat fits him better really but that works too.”

The German hummed, “Good luck prying him off.”

“Yea, I'll need it. You'd think he'd be bouncing around by this time. I didn't expect such a nice wake up call.”

A smile tugged at the field medic's lips, “We did stay up pretty late last night.”

“That we did. It was nice though,” he glanced at the runner, “Ollie?”

“Mmmmmmm?”

“You know you have to let go eventually.”

“Nooooooooo...”

“Yeeesss,” he mimicked his whiny tone while the German snickered to himself.

“C'mon, luv,” the marksman briskly strolled over to the couch and sat himself down before attempting to pry the young batter off. Thankfully, the Bostonian only made a minute effort to keep his arms around him due to how sleepy he was. “That was... a lot easier than before. How long did you stay up?”

“I don't knoooow.” Oliver moaned grumpily, planting his face in the cushions.

“Well, you still need to wake up to eat.”

“Fuck ooooffff.”

“I'm guessing you're not helping set up too, huh?”

The runner didn't answer.

“Yup,” he huffed in fake exasperation and briefly ruffled his hair then proceeded to head to the kitchen. The field medic already had three plates and three glasses lined up beside the stove. One already had a small portion on it as well as the glass semi filled with orange juice for Oliver. Without an exchange, Mundee took responsibility to grab the necessary utensils and then the filled plate and glass in the other hand to which he balanced perfectly to take over to the coffee table. 

They had realized too soon after furniture hunting that the apartment was too small for a dining table unless they wanted it in an awkward, in the way position, so they ate in front of the television. Usually, the batter sat on the floor and surfed the limited channels until something caught his eye while the other two men either had their plates on their laps or on the side table and read different sections of the newspaper. Mundee had his place on the recliner that became his napping chair and Emmet on the couch, to which he would sometimes annoy Oliver by putting his foot on his shoulder.

Today didn't feel like the usual, since the runner looked like he was about to pass out on the sofa. He waved the plate of food beside him for him to smell. That finally opened his eyes. With a small smile, he put the dish, glass, and utensils down on the coffee table.

“You need to eat, darl.”

The Bostonian grunted again and leisurely slid off the couch to sit on the floor. He lazily pawed at his fork which greatly humored the marksman. Oliver's eyes followed him leave then return seconds later with twice the amount of things in his arms that he seemed to handle with ease to then gently placed them on the side table beside the couch. the runner watched him as he strut to the front door to grab the newspaper. The batter finally remembered that he had food in front of his face and began to eat in silence. He knew the remote was always on the edge of the couch but he didn't feel like watching anything right now. His mind felt too loud and preoccupied to listen to anything.

His eyes were glued on the low table but out of the top of his peripheral he could see Mundee's legs walk to his recliner. His voice cut through the quiet, “Remote's right behind you, Ollie.”

“I know.”

“... You don't want to watch anything?” This stunned the Aussie. No way was today like normal. He spoke slowly, “You feeling alright?”

“I'm fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He looked at Emmet, who had just entered the den to see him have a confused countenance. They shared at glance before he took his place on the couch and grab his section of the newspaper. _He's just tired_ , they reassured themselves. They ate and read in still silence and occasionally peer over at their youngest lover, who merely ate or stared at nothing until his plate and glass were empty.

“Fellas...?” 

A small amount of relief washed over the rifleman to hear him speak. He folded his paper to give his attention.

“Ja, mein liebling?” Emmet pressed, although his eyes continued to traverse through the babble of words on his newspaper section.

Oliver breathed, pausing in between his words, “I've been thinking.”

“Oh no,” Mundee teased playfully but his smile fell at the sight of the runner's stern expression.

“I'm being serious here.” This drew the German's attention away from his reading. The Bostonian cleared his throat, “Listen... it's weird. Like, off... And by that I mean, every now and then I wake up and expect to be shouted at by Solly for sleeping in. And I have dreams where we're all in battle again, we're just living our lives like we used to. But then I wake up and everything is quiet. Really really peaceful-like. We got here, we got a place, we're paying for it... I don't want this to change so... What, what I'm getting at... is, that, um...” he drew his knees into his body, keeping his gaze fixed on the table top, “I mean, it doesn't have to be this huge thing, you know? Not spend a lot on it but like... I've been thinking, lately, kind of a lot that uh...” He swallowed as he gazed down at his hand, “... What if we got rings? You know, make it official...?”

Shivering from anxiety, he couldn't meet their eyes. Was he over thinking this? Was this a step too far? He could hear his mother's word from a while back that they're just like a married couple. This wouldn't harm anything, right?

“Oliver,” Emmet responded slowly as he tried to maintain his composure, “That is... I honestly have no idea what to say.”

The German looked toward Mundee, who already had tears streaming down his stunned face. The field medic took this opportunity to get off of the couch and kneel down beside the runner. He took his trembling hand, “Mein Engelchen, that... that is the sweetest thing you could ever ask for and... I would love that.”

Oliver's breathing hiccuped. Finally, he managed to remain eye contact with his German lover, “R-really??”

“Of course. I think I can say for Mundee that he would love it too,” he looked over his shoulder at the blubbering Aussie with his head in his hands. “Ohh, Mundee”

“Aaah, babe,” the batter got up and walked around the table to the rifleman. He managed to pull him out of the recliner, “C'mon, old man, bring it in.”

Mundee nearly knocked him onto the floor with his firm embrace. The marksman couldn't seem to get any words out other than incoherent crying. It was touching enough to the runner to feel tears in his eyes as well. He stroked and twirled the rifleman's hair that stretched down to his lower back, “See, man? I'm fine. I guess I was kind of anxious but... you know.”

The Aussie squeezed him, nuzzling his head into his neck. Oliver smiled, “I love you too, babe.”

The field medic watched them with his heart dancing around in his chest. He cleared his throat, “If we are to get rings today, should I be the one to call Angie then?”

“Yeah, sort of got my hands full right now.”

He got up and walked to the bedroom where the phone sat on the bedside dresser. He dialed the memorized numbers and held it to his ear.

Make it official... 

Make it official. The words rung in his head as he held out and turned over his free hand. He was amazed at how easily he could envision a ring on his fourth finger. His chest ached with how hard and fast his heart pulsed. It felt as if he couldn't breath from the excitement. His legs felt like lead.

“Hello?”

Emmet jumped, “Angie! I...” His mouth suddenly failed him.

“Emmet? Is that you?”

“I-it's me...”

“Is there something wrong? Did something bad happen?”

“Nein! No... no, something... beyond words happened.”

“Yea?”

“Yes,” he was unable to stop staring at his hand for a minute. He finally blinked out of his trance and vainly attempted composed himself, “Ach, forgive me, I called to ask if we could borrow your car.”

“Whoa, hold on, you can't just say something amazing happened and not tell me! Why do you need my car?”

“Angie, your son... He... He wants to make this relationship official. He wants to look at rings.” He waited for a response, “... Angie?”

He gazed at the phone quizzically before hanging up and calling again to not receive an answer. “Strange?”

He placed the phone back down on the dresser. Maybe her phone died? When he entered back to the den, nothing had changed between the them except they were sharing short, possibly salty kisses. After a few moments, Oliver noticed his presence and broke the kiss. His voice had become hoarse, “Well?”

“I'm not sure. When I told her we wanted to look at rings, she didn't say anything. I called her again and she didn't pick up.”

“Oh no.”

“Is that bad?”

“Yeah, it means that she's coming over. So expect her to hug you when you open the door.”

He exhaled in relief, “So I assume she's happy about the news then?”

“Definitely, probably not to Mun's extent though.”

Mundee tried to respond through his sobbing but it sounded to be a different language that made his two lovers cackle with laughter.

“Oh my god, Mun, c'mon. Buck up.” The Bostonian patted his forearms, “We need to ready and all that crap.”

~~~

“I'm here!” Angie burst through the door Emmet decided to unlock for whenever she decided to show up, which was five minutes after they finished getting dressed. She seemed out of breath, “Now get in the car! I'm driving all of you to a great jewel's I know.”

“Ma, chill out,” Oliver gazed at her, questioningly, “It's not like there's a freaking line to get this stuff.”

“Oh, you sweet innocent thing,” he patted the side of his face and smiled at his pout, “C'mon, you boys are all ready, yea? Let's go.”

Mundee was finally able to talk after calming down earlier, “J-just like that?”

“Of course, you're my boys! And I'm assuming that there isn't going to be a wedding right?” She got a nod out of them, “Figured. Makes my job a lot easier. Now, let's goooo!”

~~~

“Here we are!” She pulled the Mercedes into a space nearby the door. 

“Marcel's Jewels?” The batter read the sign out loud from the passenger window, his eyebrows knitted. “Wait, I've been here before. This is the place you forced me to come here with you and be with you for like two hours!”

“That won't happen again, I promise. I was catching up with a friend, can you blame me?” She ignored her son's grumbled comeback as she unlocked the car doors and started to get out but paused in her action to think. “Hold on,” she sat back down and looked at the two men who sat in the back seats. They had paused in opening their side doors at her words. “You both are staying here. I know the guy in charge isn't a fan of homos, and I've already got a game plan in my head, so it'll be best if you guys stay here, okay? Ollie-baby, you just follow my lead.” Angie hopped out of the Mercedes and gave a quick farewell to them before closing the door, “We'll be right back!”

Mundee and Emmet looked over at their youngest lover, who merely gave them a helpless shrug and a lopsided smile and got out of the car. They watch him run after his mother who was already in the store.

There was a hint of silence until the Aussie whispered, “So... this is it.”

The field medic turned to him, “I'm sorry?”

“Emmet? Is this really happening?”

His eyebrows furrowed, as if he was contemplating the situation himself, “Yes... mein Schatz, I don't think your mind is fabricating all of this.”

Tears filled his eyes again, “This is honestly too good to be true. I just—I'm so happy that this... I... Bloody hell, I'm crying again.”

His heart skipped at the sight of his blissful grin. He moved from his seat to be right beside him. Emmet shushed him and wiped his tears. He cupped his face and pressed his forehead onto his. The marksman took both of his hands into his own as tears uncontrollably flowed down his face. This... This was happening. This was real, Emmet had to remind himself every so often, even on the car ride here. This wasn't a dream.

He opened his mouth to speak only to find that nothing could come out. His eyes stung with tears he was unable to fight back. It was upon the fifth time where his trembling vocal cords decided to work, “We're... making it official.”

“Did you ever think this would happen?”

“Definitely not, but I—ahaha—I am very glad that it did.”

“Me too.” The Aussie folded his arms around his partner. “This is the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

~~~

They have been holding onto each other for an uncertain amount of time before Emmet noticed the shop door open to reveal Angie and their youngest partner with a bag in his hand.

“They're back.” The German felt the body beside him shift and watched the car door open. Mundee gazed back at him with a ecstatic smile and weary eyes as he took him by the hand, urging him outside. He let him pull him onto his weak legs and stumbled slightly when he put his weight onto his feet. The marksman let him hang onto his arm and kissed his temple.

As Oliver paced tepidly towards them, they could tell he was trying his best to not to burst into tears in public. He halted in his step when he was a foot away from them. His brain felt it was running a marathon as he tried to think of what to do first? Should he really do it here where everyone can see or wait? Everyone was outside of the car now and Oliver couldn't take the wait anymore. The runner took a deep breath and exhaled to calm his heart down.

“Okay... Ok, give me your hands.”

The two men complied, extending their dominant hands out. The Bostonian reached into the plastic bag to pull out a small box. He popped it open to unveil a golden colored ring. It did not have markings or complicated patterns but that didn't mean it didn't lack importance. It shimmered in the sun's ray. He took the ring out of its place and let the box drop into the bag.

His deep breathing was unable to still his quivering body. It was such a simple action anyone can easily do. He wanted to beat himself over the head for how hard he was making this. The runner grabbed Emmet by the wrist and inserted the ring onto the correct finger. 

Then again, this was a giant step, even without a ceremony or anything special planned. Oliver withdrew another small box from and opened it to see an identical ring.

This didn't feel like a dream or a distant reality anymore. Slowly, he copied his action onto Mundee's shaking hand. The batter couldn't look directly at them when he tried to. He kept his gaze on their hands to watch them from his peripheral at how the Aussie, through tear stained eyes, held his to steady his hand to see the ring on his finger while the German goggled as if contemplating the ring's existence. 

His heart galloped against his ribcage. This was happening right now. He actually put rings on his two partners. He looked down at the one remaining boxed ring in the bag. His deep breathing at this point became more rapid when he picked up and opened the box to have the last ring in his hands.

At first, he just stared at it, unable to tell his body what to do. He felt like he could fall onto the ground at any second. He winced violently at the sudden touch of a hand on his shoulder. If someone was speaking to him, it was drowned out by the pounding of his heart beat in his ears. He had no knowledge of how long he had been standing there staring at the small piece of commitment in his hands. After a few moments as he managed to control the regulation of his breathing again, he gingerly placed the identical ring on his finger.

Finally, he looked up at his two lovers while tears streamed down his face. He felt so good, no good doesn't even begin to describe it. There wasn't a word that could express the joy he felt. “... We did it.” 

The German put his soft hand through his hair, smiling sweetly, “It's official.”

“Not yet.” The two of them gazed at the Aussie in astonishment. Not yet? Mundee took their ringed hands and slowly he knelt down on one knee. 

Emmet's eyes grew to the size of plates. He spoke through gritted teeth, “Mundee, no.”

“Mun, don't you fucking dare. We're in the middle of a parking lot!” Oliver's body shook tremendously, his teeth chewing on his lower lip.

“Emmet Humboldt. Oliver Christopher Williams.”

“Aufstehen, du dummkopf! Das ist nicht nötig,” tears lined his eyes once more as his voice wavered. 

For a while, the Aussie couldn't get the words out of his dry mouth, forcing them to wait in stiff silence. He swallowed, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes, you shithead...!”

The field medic was unable to verbally response so he nodded his head wholeheartedly. 

Finally, the rifleman stood back and pulled his two lovers into a tight embrace. Angie watched them from other side of the car with tissues in her hand to clean off her running mascara. It was a shame she was unable to photograph the moment, or else she would have sent it off to René. Would he be happy for them too? Thinking about it now, he would writhe at the thought of having a piss-throwing bushman for a stepson. She giggled at that and brought her attention back to her sons. It must have looked strange to a passerby of three men hugging each other and crying in a parking lot like they were saying goodbye. This wasn't a goodbye though, it was more joyful and sweeter than that.

At the sight of their smiles full of elation, she was glad she took part of this and experience these new situations and learn about her stepsons.

She smiled that they were so blissfully merry to even cry. She watched them until they eventually calmed down and just stood in each other's arms.

She hated to ruin the tranquility between the three, “Boys, you're holding off parking spaces. Let's get ya'll back home.”

Carefully, as if they were handling glass, they pulled away from each other and headed towards the vehicle. Oliver tried to seat in the passenger side again but Angie urged him to sit with his partners... _Just like at the airport_ , she reminisced while she shut the car door after getting into the driver's side. As she looked into the rear view mirror to back out, she gazed at her boys. Their heads lovingly pressed together.

This was nice. Today was wonderful. 

Peaceful, even.

She momentarily sat there to take it in before safely driving them to their apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we get to close this fluffy feelsy fic on a really sugary sweet high note <3 
> 
> Funfact: I actually wrote the ending before even thinking of the airport situation! This whole scene was intended to be the starting point of the fic and a one off! Then I was bombarded with more possibilities and ideas to expand it, but I couldn't push this cuteness aside, so it helped me finish this fic a lot sooner than originally planned! And it has left me teary-eyed :'D


End file.
